


III: Simple, But Never Easy

by Ducks



Series: The Ties Between Us [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, IWRY baby fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-09
Updated: 2000-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy is pregnant following the events of I Will Remember You. Angel has returned to Sunnydale to keep an eye on her. It quickly became apparent that things weren't going to work out, so he had planned to leave her life once again, in the capable hands of Special Agent Riley Finn. But the Initiative had other plans, and kidnapped Buffy. Once Riley and Forest saved her, and destroyed the facility itself, the two men were forced into hiding, undermining Angel's plans. After nearly losing Buffy again, he has decided to stay on the Hellmouth, and try to work things out. As usual with these two, it's not easy…</p><p>Buffy has lived through heartbreak, dire injury, death, and even several Armageddons, with Angel by her side.</p><p>Will she survive the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Whole New Ballgame

Angel counted out the last of the money to the darkly suited man.

"Nice doing business with you," the burly Italian drawled, and walked out the front door.

There. Most of what he needed to accomplish before the baby was born was now finished. It had taken almost three months to arrange, but looking around, he knew it was worth it.

With one last, long glance, he turned and left, locking the door behind him and pocketing the key.

He paced from one end of the mansion to the other. Is this what he was doomed to, as a parent, this constant, agonizing waiting? Buffy should have been back from her doctor's appointment hours ago, with the results of a long afternoon's worth of tests.

Had the baby been harmed in any way by the Initiative? If anything happened to Buffy or their child because of them… if either of them got so much as a sniffle that he could prove originated from something they'd done to her… he would hunt them down, one by one, and slowly break every bone in their bodies with his bare hands. The neck always came last, of course – you can snap the spine itself and still have a living creature to torture…

//Okay, NOT the best time to be having torture daydreams…//

But, damn it! He felt so helpless through all of this. The first time, when Buffy was almost killed by the Kasala… and then, when she was taken by the Initiative…

He might as well have stayed human to begin with, if this was all the help he would be to her.

//No. Enough. I promised Buffy I would try to stay positive, and I will. Even if it kills me.//

He looked mournfully at the enormous plastic monstrosity awaiting his attention on the living room floor.

" 57" Wide Screen Digital Satellite Television," He read on the cover of the owner's manual. "I don't even know what that means!" he cried out to the empty room.

Angel stared helplessly at the mass of tangled wires in his hands.

"Need some help with that, son?" Came a fake macho voice from behind him.

He turned and smiled tightly at Willow. Didn't any of these people knock?

"I don't think the instructions are in English," He whined, holding up the offending document for her inspection.

She took it and read the first page carefully. "How many languages do you speak, like, seven? Let's look," She flipped another page, "I bet some of those have to include: French, Spanish, Japanese. Oh, and look! English!"

He scowled at her. "Hey. If you ever need a champion to behead something with a broadsword, I'm your man. Electronics, I leave to the brains behind the operation," he said.

"Which would be me," she said happily, beginning to untangle the wires that had wrapped around his feet like some monster's tentacles.

"Which would be you," he agreed, helping her.

"I'd say we did okay breaking into the Initiative, wouldn't you?" she chirped.

Angel fell silent, and the smile began to slip from his face. "We didn't exactly break in… Buffy broke out. And what we did do, you did, with magick."

"Yeah, but you saved Riley, so… I think you definitely deserve some extra hero points," she insisted, and bent over to plug the TV into the wall, then handed him the remote, "Xander says the man has to use it, first. And, as frightening as it may sound, he would be the one to know."

Angel held the contraption in his hand like a delicate, antique weapon that might discharge at any moment. He looked down at it in terror, but was pleasantly surprised to find that even a monkey such as himself, or Xander Harris, could operate it. He pushed the big, red "ON" button, and the thing exploded to life, barraging his senses with colors and sounds he'd never seen in nature.

He watched, entranced, as large men in colorful outfits screamed at one another, preened and bragged, then tossed one another around what appeared to be a large boxing ring.

"*This* is wrestling?" Angel asked, shocked and dismayed.

"That's what they keep trying to tell us. Here," she said, taking the remote, "I can show you stuff that's probably more to your taste. You use the memory button…" she began flipping through the channels she'd programmed.

"It's not… horror… movies… is it?" he mumbled worriedly. Willow looked down at him and tried not to laugh. She didn't think it was possible that Angel was afraid of anything at all, least of all stupid slasher movies.

"No. No horror. Look," She continued flipping, "I had to put Fox and the WB on for Buffy's programs… And channel 5 so she can watch the game shows and Jerry Springer…"

Angel stared at the screen, dumbfounded. He'd managed to avoid television for almost 40 years.

"Oh. Okay," He agreed stupidly.

"Wait, this is the good part," Willow said, and kept clicking, "American Movie Classics, Turner Classic Movies, TV Land, Comedy Central, VH1, the History Channel, Sci Fi… they do play scary movies, but only on certain nights of the week, and they warn you, first."

"No wonder you guys don't read," Angel said, taking back the remote and repeating Willow's motions, "If I had this when I was young, I would never have picked up a book."

This time, Willow laughed at him.

"Hidiho, neighbors!" Buffy called from the foyer. She would have skipped into the living room, if it wasn't for the highly probable danger of mutilating herself horribly because she was 30 lbs. off balance all the time.

Xander stumbled through the door behind her, his arms completely overloaded with packages. Cordelia brought up the rear, empty-handed.

Angel looked up at the crowd of kids and stuff that had suddenly flooded the living room of his usually peaceful home. He had a sudden sensation of watching a circus move in. He walked over to Xander, and took the boxes closest to toppling from the top of his burden.

"Let me help you with that," He offered, shooting Cordelia a look as she trotted by.

"Thanks, man," Xander said, and set the rest of the packages down on the couch.

Willow ran off to join the other women in the kitchen. They all danced around one another, giggling and squealing like teenagers. Xander gave Angel a pained look – he never understood the whole high-pitched greeting thing, either.

"Honey, wait until you see what I got!" Buffy laughed, turning all the bags upside down and littering both the couch and the floor with baby clothes. Angel caught one bag as it floated away.

"Baby Gap," He read. Where did people get these idiot names for stores?

She held up one outfit after another for his inspection. They blurred by so fast, he barely had time to say, "Oh.", "Wow", and "I like that", let alone remember what the Hell it was she was showing him.

He felt like he'd stepped into an alternate dimension. And Xander, whose mouth seemed stuck in a shocked little "o", was apparently feeling it, too.

"And of course, I went to Mommies' World and got myself a couple of things…" Buffy went on.

Angel stared at yet another enormous bag being emptied for his inspection.

"Of course you did," Xander said wryly.

Angel turned to look at him, "Speaking of… girl things, where is Anya, anyway?"

Xander shrugged. "She doesn't much get into this girly stuff. No possibility of sex."

"Ah," Angel replied, "Wise."

Xander nodded, "And yet, we're here," he lamented.

~~~~~

Buffy plopped down beside him, dropping a giant bowl of popcorn in his lap.

"No salt, extra butter," She said through a mouthful, "I can't afford to get any more bloated."

Angel winced at her in a vain attempt to smile.

Buffy's face softened, and she cuddled up closer to him. "Aw, I'm sorry. Today was a little much for you, wasn't it?"

He sighed, wearily but happily. "Well, I'd better get used to it," He said, kissing her hair, "A baby will be a whole lot more of a handful than you guys."

"You'll do okay," She assured him, "Hey, how about some cultural education? 90210, maybe? Charmed?"

"Those are those… soap operas… aren't they," He asked, as if pointing out a particularly nasty disease that could be transmitted through the television.

"It's important that you understand these things. For the baby," She told him, stuffing her face with another handful of popcorn.

He grinned down at her. "These shows will be out of style long before the baby's old enough to watch them… I hope."

Buffy whacked his shoulder, "I'll tell you what. Compromise. We'll watch 90210, and then we can watch one of your crappy old movies."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "An hour of the History Channel, and Law & Order, and you've got yourself a deal," He said.

Buffy sat up. "Fine. But you have to give me a plot synopsis, with names, after the show's over. No "Shelf-hair Guy" or "That blonde twit – the bulimic," She insisted.

"Deal," He said, putting his arm around her and reaching for some popcorn.


	2. Expect the Unexpected

"Well, the doctor said, and I quote, 'Everything appears to be going quite well, considering what's happened to the two of you.' Unquote. Normal weight, the right numbers of limbs, digits, and features, and no obvious fangs, scales, and/or horns." Buffy told Giles cheerfully.

He set a fresh cup of herbal tea before her and sat down.

"Uh… yes. That's… very good." He said.

Buffy looked at him. "You don't sound so sure…"

"Oh. Well… I'm certain that everything is, indeed, fine."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?" she asked, giving him a sharp look.

Giles smiled wanly at her. He had asked Buffy to come over for tea after her doctor's appointment the day before, but apparently, shopping had taken precedence over an afternoon with her old friend. He wanted to make sure for himself that all was well. Despite Buffy's glowing report, some part of him remained unconvinced.

There was, first of all, the child's mystical parentage. If the Oracles had erred so badly in erasing the day that Buffy and Angel spent together to begin with, what other things might have been altered in the process? Plus, there was the simple fact that Buffy herself was anything but normal…

And none of this was even to mention Buffy's brief captivity by the Initiative. From what she had told him, Professor Walsh had poked and prodded at her quiet a bit, as well as administering some injections. Considering what they had done to Spike, and the fact that they had been more than willing to kidnap Buffy off the street in broad daylight to begin with, things didn't bode well for the child to have escaped as untouched as its mother.

And then, of course, there was Angel…

"I'm concerned for your well-being, that's all." He insisted, "But… it might not be the worst idea for you to procure a second opinion. A more, shall we say, specialized one?"

Buffy looked at him, worry beginning to shadow her features, "Why? Do you think there's something wrong my regular doctor can't see?"

"No… not necessarily…" he said unconvincingly.

"Giles…" she warned.

"Buffy, I'm very concerned about this entire situation, and all of its possible ramifications. You are unable to remember the child's conception, after all…"

"I trust Angel," Buffy said simply.

"Yes, yes, of course you do… I didn't mean to imply… But, we can't be certain his memory is true either, can we? These "Oracles" could be anything… not what they portray themselves to be. And what about the Initiative? What might they have done to you?"

Buffy felt a little stab of regret at the thought of what Riley had sacrificed, to save her from them. But that wasn't the major part of what Giles' little speech stirred in her. Mostly, she was thinking about the Oracles and The Day That Wasn't.

What if Giles was right? What if the Oracles were playing some trick on her and Angel? What if things didn't happen the way he remembered? What if they didn't happen at all, and the PTB's had somehow just… impregnated her?

It took her a few moments to realize that Giles had stopped talking, and was staring at her in that understated, irritated British way he had.

"What? I'm sorry," She apologized, "Who is this you want me to see?"

"Her name is Dr. Erin Spicer. She's a medical doctor, in the traditional sense, but also an expert on demon reproduction," Giles told her.

"So you really do think there's something wrong with my baby!" Buffy was losing her cool, and the comment came out more like a squeak than a statement.

Giles was quickly regretting ever beginning this conversation.

"No, Buffy, of course not," He smiled as genuinely as he could, "I'm sure your doctor is right, and everything is fine."

"But it never hurts to be sure, right?" she asked softly.

"Right," He agreed.

"Okay, I'll see her," Buffy relented.

Giles immediately felt better.

~~~~~

Wesley stood primly behind Cordelia, holding her growing pile of packages while she slowly rummaged through the infants' clothing racks.

"Ugh!" She whined, "I wish they would find out if it's a boy or a girl… or at least register or something! Can't they do anything like normal people?"

Wesley peered down at her over the pile of boxes. "They are not exactly normal people, Cordelia. And, this was not a planned pregnancy, as you know."

"No kidding," Cordy tossed back, choosing a cute little velvet pantsuit from the rack and holding up for his approval, "What about this? Isn't this cute?"

"Don't you think that's a bit… dramatic…" he said, frowning slightly. Velvet always reminded him of vampires.

"Angel hardly ever wears velvet anymore. I kind of miss it," Cordy told him. "He says it intimidates the customers, but… I think the dark, brooding man-of-mystery-who-can't-go-out-during-the-day thing is just fine for that…"

Wesley took that as his cue. "Speaking of customers, when is it, exactly, that you planned on returning to Los Angeles? It's been three months, already, and I am eager to get back to work."

Cordelia stopped and looked at him as if he had suggested they eat demon liver for lunch, "What's the matter, Wesley, not enough action here on the old Hellmouth, for you? We can't go now… I mean, Angel wants to stay – to be here when the baby's born. And there's no guarantee he'll come back to LA at all… And I can't really do anything at the office without him, and besides…" she turned back toward the display, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, "I like being in Sunnydale."

"Oh?" Wesley was surprised at her admission, "I was under the impression that you despised this place. In fact, I believe I've heard you call it 'That Soul-Sucking Hell Hole' more than a few times."

Cordy looked at him and scowled. "You know, you can leave any time you want. No one is forcing you to stay here. You're a Rogue Demon Hunter, right? What do you need us for?"

Wesley sighed and smiled contritely. "No, no… I go where I am most needed, and right now, I'd say that that place is Sunnydale."

Cordelia tossed a pair of booties into the basket.

"Whatever," she said.

~~~~~

Buffy dragged her feet on the way up Crawford Street. She wasn't tired, exactly… she seemed to have plenty of physical energy, but she felt emotionally heavy, and that was almost worse.

She stopped to perch on a roadside boulder and catch her breath. Strong and healthy, in good shape, or no, it was still hard work hauling 30 extra pounds around with her all the time. But, the doctor, and all the books she'd been reading, said exercise was important during pregnancy. And so, she walked.

What better reward than to walk in the sunshine to go see her lover?

Her lover… Angel was that, technically. At the very least, they had been together that one time, before. Sometimes Buffy tried to tie the baby's conception to that long-ago event (had it only been 2 ½ years ago?)… Of course, the reality of what had happened afterward made fantasizing difficult.

She couldn't help but think: shouldn't a mother remember the circumstances of her child's conception? Soft sighs, gentle caresses, loving words murmured in the heat of passion?

Her pregnancy almost didn't seem real without any concept of how it came to be. Her feelings for Angel, deep down, were still the same as they had been the last time she saw him. She felt angry, resentful… abandoned. And more than a little bitter about it. As far as her head was concerned, nothing had really changed between them, and the last time they'd met face to face, she'd told him to stay away from her. Until the past few months…

Even her heart wasn't certain where it stood. After having been broken time and again by Angel himself, Riley had come along and started to help her feel whole and desirable, again. Now he was gone, too. Because he cared about her… And the choice she might have made was taken from her hands once again.

Sometimes she wished that she could fall in love with someone less noble, who was less certain he knew what was best for her. Maybe then she wouldn't always end up alone.

//But… I'm not alone now…// She lay her hand on her round belly and rubbed it gently. "Am I?" She said out loud to her unborn child.

As if in response to her question, the baby kicked her.

"Oh my God!" Buffy shouted, completely taken by surprise. She'd been feeling the little rolls and twitches inside her for months, now, but this was the first time she'd gotten a genuine kick. She felt a rush of indescribable joy rush through her, and she leapt to her feet, walking as quickly as she possibly could to the mansion at the foot of Crawford Street.

~~~~~

"No, NO!" Xander shouted, snatching the controller from Angel's hands, "It's UP, LEFT, RIGHT, UP AGAIN! You'll never clear the minefield with a regular jump!"

Angel glowered at him. He was a vampire with perfect vision, supernatural reflexes, and extraordinary spatial abilities. This mind-bending monstrosity masquerading as a game should be a snap.

"Maybe it's broken," Spike sneered from the other end of the couch. He was really beginning to enjoy this little afternoon's outing. He had no problem with the minefield, at all.

Angel got up and went into the kitchen, shooting Spike a withering look as he passed.

"Say, if you're getting a snack, could you spot me a pint?" Spike called after him.

"Could you snack later?" Xander said, making a disgusted face.

"Hey. You've got your Ho-Ho's, I've got my Type O. Deal with it," Spike retorted.

Angel leaned heavily against the counter. This was getting to be a little much. It seemed like his house had become 'Scooby Central', since he'd put in the TV. Every square inch of the place was packed with people, 24 hours a day.

He looked up at the clock. 3:30 p.m. He couldn't even go outside to escape.

He felt as though he were running some sort of weird underworld hotel for teenagers… Buffy's weapons and gear were scattered everywhere, along with some books on magick and others on pregnancy. Her clothes seemed to litter every surface, and her friends filled every seat. Plus, there was the added bonus of Spike's presence.

Frankly, Angel hated the whole thing. Spike took every opportunity to mock, tease, and insult him. Not that the treatment wasn't well-deserved, considering how Angel had treated Spike when he didn't have his soul, and the blonde vampire was wheelchair-bound.

What he felt he desperately needed was calm, quiet time… space in which to think about all that had happened to him in the past six months… and what the future might hold. He had things he needed to decide, things to figure out, plans to make. The sounds of Xander and Spike hollering at the virtual battle they were engaged in didn't help.

Whatever his feelings about the matter, the fact was that having her strange family around gave Buffy some comfort. Despite the nagging suspicion he had that she used the crowd to keep him at a distance, Angel could deny her nothing. Whatever she needed from him was hers, without question. Even this…

After he had told her he was going to stay, and they had argued about the reasons why, Angel had spent the night with her in her old bedroom, simply holding her in his arms. It was a sensation he couldn't get out of his mind for a moment.

But they hadn't been that intimate, since. A quick kiss here, a hug there… but mostly, Buffy stayed at arms' length as if the two of them were merely friends.

Angel didn't blame her, really. She didn't have the heart-wrenching memories he did of the one glorious day they had spent together. That day of soft caresses and passionate sighs… of promises and forgiveness and hope… That incredible day when they'd shared a whole lifetime together. The day that had given them their child…

What was it Doyle had said? "Come on, you lived and loved and lost and fought and vanquished inside a day, and I'm still trying to work up the courage to ask Cordy out for dinner…"

He ignored the little tug in his heart at the thought of Doyle…He needed to focus.

The mix of pain and joy the memories of that day brought made him tired and sad… And he knew full well that they colored everything about the way he saw the current situation. For once, it was he who couldn't stand back from his relationship with Buffy and see things rationally…

For Buffy, this was all still a mystery. One moment she was getting on with her life, the way he'd begged her to; falling in love again and slaying demons like the well-oiled killing machine she was, and the next she was half-dead and pregnant with the child of her ex-lover, who was supposedly infertile, and who, the last time they'd met, hadn't so much as touched her.

No, Angel didn't blame Buffy for her distance, at all.

"Hey! What's the hold-up in there? Need some help with the jar?" Spike shouted.

Angel scowled. He had to do something about this, soon, or he might just go completely insane and make the whole question moot by killing them all.

~~~~~

Buffy was still a few hundred yards from the mansion, and quickly running out of steam. The baby's new movements seemed to suck more energy out of her than anything else so far during her pregnancy… with the exception of her near-death at the very beginning, of course…

No matter how tired she was, she had to get to Angel. He had to experience this with her.

It was the first time Buffy had ever really felt that there was a life -- an actual human being -- growing inside of her. Or, at least, a potential person… And that person was part her, and part Angel.

The moment the realization finished materializing in her head, she stopped short. Angel and her. She hadn't paired herself with him in anything but faded memories in a long time.

She started walking again, but slower, now. The baby settled too, and part of her was sad that Angel wouldn't be able to feel her move… But he would, soon. Buffy wondered if he felt the same way she did, about all of this… how miraculous… how mysterious the conception of their child was…

Of course he didn't. He was there when it happened. She wasn't. Or at least, she might as well not have been.

She swung the giant mahogany door open, and stifled a tired laugh at the sight of Xander and Spike playing Playstation on the couch. She didn't see Angel.

Her senses were tingling-- he was definitely nearby. She walked into the living room, and stood behind the boys on the couch.

"Hi guys," She said.

Xander practically jumped out of his skin. "Jesus Buffy! Don't DO that!" he yelped.

Spike didn't bother looking away from the screen, where his character was now trouncing Xander's forgotten, and thus undefended, one.

"Pretty stealthy for a fat chick," He mumbled.

Buffy smacked him in the back of the head, eliciting a dark look from her reluctant colleague.

"Where's Angel?" she asked Xander.

"Not sure," Xander said, shrugging and reclaiming his controller.

"He was supposed to bring us snacks half an hour ago," Spike complained.

Buffy could hardly imagine Angel fetching snacks for these two -- they were hardly his favorite peop… er… beings. In fact, they were probably two of his least favorite.

She left them to it and went first to the kitchen. Finding it empty, she climbed the stairs up to the bedroom.

It had been a long time since she was in his bedroom. In fact, the last time had been the night he almost died from Faith's poisoned arrow… the night he'd…

Buffy shook it off. There were so many ties between she and Angel… too many to count, and she couldn't afford to get lost in the memories, now.

She found him in his favorite chair near the fireplace, his feet up on the hassock, and his head lolling lazily to one side. He was fast asleep.

Buffy felt a wave of love wash through her, at the sight of his peaceful face. The only time it seemed Angel really relaxed was when he slept. And considering his frequent nightmares, often not even then.

She tiptoed over to him and peered down at the book that lay open on his chest.

What to Expect When You're Expecting. No doubt a gift from Cordelia.

Tears welled up in her eyes at this picture… such a normal scene: the tired expectant father falling asleep in his easy chair, reading about his lover's pregnancy. She couldn't resist the urge to reach out and softly caress his cheek.

His eyes fluttered slowly open, taking a moment to focus on her. When he did, he smiled.

"Hi," She said, smiling back.

He reached his hand up to place it over the one she still had on his cheek. "Hi yourself," He whispered.

They stared at one another, silent, for a long moment. Then, Angel stirred and began to get up, dropping the book on the floor in the process.

"Whoops," He said. He bent over to pick it up, and looked at the cover sheepishly before handing it back to her. "I don't know a lot about babies…" he admitted shyly.

Buffy nodded, unable to speak for fear that she would burst into tears. Crying was her #1 pastime, these days… Actually, #3, behind eating and peeing…

Speaking of which…

"I have to use the bathroom," She said, and dashed out of the room.

Angel was glad he'd taken the time to have the plumbing repaired when he'd returned to the mansion. He smiled and watched her run off. Or, rather, waddle very quickly.


	3. The Specialist

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror. All the feelings rushing through her… those hormonal, and those caused by her constant state of confusion, made it hard for her to think straight. There were so many things she didn't understand… so many things she just didn't believe about all of this. She set her jaw, and stomped out of the bathroom.

"We have to talk," She said to Angel, then marched resolutely to the bottom of the stairs. She leaned over the railing.

"You two! Pack it up!" she shouted.

Spike and Xander looked up from their game.

"NOW!" She barked.

They dropped their controllers, grabbed their coats, and headed toward their respective exits: Xander out the front door, and Spike down to the basement. Neither said a word in objection.

Angel wondered why he hadn't thought of that himself.

Buffy came back up the stairs, grabbed his hand, and dragged him back into his bedroom.

"Sit!" She ordered, pointing to the bed.

He complied.

She stood tall and proud before him. "I felt the baby move today. She kicked me. Hard." She barked.

A smile spread slowly across Angel's face. Buffy glared down at him, but found herself unable to resist his sweet, amazed expression. She finally gave in to her joy, confusion, and exhaustion, and collapsed beside him on the bed.

"It was the first time any of this felt real…" she whispered.

Angel looked at her tenderly, needing all of his strength not to reach out and grab her… hold her to him… make all her pain go away…

He could find nothing to say. No thought formed in his mind, among all the waves of joy and wonder that overwhelmed him.

Buffy reached out and took his hand, and stared down at it. "When I was first in the hospital, I couldn't move… I couldn't speak… I couldn't even open my eyes. All I could do was lie there and think. But all I kept thinking was… how much… how much I wished you were there. And then, when they told me about the baby… " She held her breath, "I didn't want to die. I wanted this… I wanted all of this, with you."

Angel squeezed her hand.

"I wanted to be with you again, " she went on, "To share… a life… with you. Even though I didn't understand… even though I don't remember… All I could remember was how you left me. And I was so scared…"

They sat in silence for a while, as Buffy cried softly.

"I don't know if anything's different now or not." She said, "One minute we're… we're laying on my bed, holding each other… and the next? It's like… like you're a stranger, and I can't bear to be around you…"

Her voice choked, and she leaned into his broad chest. Angel wrapped his arms around her and held her closer while her body shook with sobs.

"Shhh… it's okay." He whispered to her, "I am here, now. And I will never leave you again. I promise."

"It's not fair!" Buffy moaned into his shirt.

"What's not…" he asked.

Buffy snuffled hard and looked up at him. "You know how all of this happened. You remember. You were there. I don't remember anything…"

"I've told you…" he objected.

"You've told me about it! But you can't tell me what it felt like to hold you in my arms… to feel you inside of me… to fall asleep, listening to your heartbeat…"

The anguish on her face crushed him. "No. I can't." he admitted.

Buffy took the hand she'd been holding and lay his palm flat on her belly. The baby was turning, twitching and kicking again, in time with her heart. Angel's face lit up with wonder, as if a million lightbulbs were turned on just below the surface of his pale skin. He stared at her.

"That's… that's incredible…" he whispered.

She lay her warm hand over his cool one. "This is all I have of that day. Of you… and I don't even remember how it happened, or why…" She blinked, and her tears continued to roll uncontrollably off her face, "Do you know what this feels like to me? You. It feels like you, reborn, inside of me… because of me…" she said.

Angel looked deeply into her eyes, then sank slowly down to rest his ear against her stomach. She could feel his tears soaking her dress, and she gently stroked his hair.

"I want it back." She said.

Angel sat up, his mouth hanging open as if he would speak, but no sound came out. His brow furrowed.

"What?" he asked.

Buffy took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I want that day back. The Day That Wasn't." She repeated.

Angel stared at her, mimicking what the Oracles had told him. "That's impossible. What is done cannot be undone."

"Stop it!" Buffy shouted at him, "Save your platitudes and your cryptic nihilistic riddles!"

"Nihilistic?" he said, wounded.

"I'm serious, Angel! If I am going to bring our child into the world, then that day did happen, and I have a right to remember!"

She jumped to her feet and glared down at him once again, trying to be intimidating. But she still barely met him at eye level. "You tell them I want it back!" she shouted, pointing her finger in his face, "I can never be at peace with any of this until I know!"

"Buffy, I can't…" he objected.

She looked at him for a moment, then an idea dawned on her. "Then I will. Take me to see them."

"I can't just take you." he insisted, "They're not at the mall…"

She was unamused. "Then do whatever you have to do. I want to talk to the Oracles."

Angel thought for a moment. Could he get Buffy in to see them? And if he could, what would happen? Would Buffy and the baby be safe?

He shook his head. "It's not a good idea, Buffy… I know you're confused. I know all of this is a lot… but… the Oracles are unpredictable, at best… it might not be safe. And… you don't want to remember. Believe me." The last was so soft, she barely heard him.

Buffy continued to look at him. "You had no right to do this. To take that away from me…" she said, and sank back down onto the bed beside him.

He couldn't look at her. "I did what I thought was right. I did it for you." he said.

Buffy said nothing. Why was it that everything he said he did 'for her' hurt her so badly?

"Maybe… after the baby is born… maybe we can try then." He offered. But what he hoped was that, by then, she would have forgotten all about it.

She shrugged. "Maybe. Or… what if this Witch Doctor gives me a clean bill of health? We can do it now." She said.

"Witch Doctor?" Angel said, suddenly very confused. Again.

"Oh." Buffy chuckled, "Yeah. Giles wants me to see this demon reproduction specialist…"

Angel's eyes widened in alarm.

"It's just a precaution." She assured him, "You know… to be sure… Slayer… Hellmouth, all that?"

"And me for a father." He said sadly.

She took his hand once again. "It's just to make sure, Angel. Giles doesn't think we'll find anything odd at all."

Angel looked up at her, his eyes frightened. "I want… may I… can I go with you?" he asked hesitantly.

Buffy squeezed his hand and smiled, "I was kind of hoping you would." She said.

~~~~~

Giles went to LAX to meet Dr. Erin Spicer's flight from London at 8 a.m. Buffy was already there when he rushed out the door.

"We probably won't be back until half-past twelve, Buffy. You might try getting some rest." He said as he grabbed his coat.

"Rest. Got it." Buffy said, polishing off her third danish.

"Is… is Angel coming? DON'T DRINK THAT!" he scolded as she grabbed a full tea cup from the counter, "It's Earl Grey… far too much caffeine. Drink the chamomile. In the white pot." He pointed to the stove.

Buffy snorted and poured herself a cup. Giles was still standing, looking at her when she returned.

"What?" she said defensively, "It's chamomile!"

"Is he?" Giles repeated.

Buffy cocked her head, "Is who what?"

"Angel. Will Angel be here?"

Buffy frowned. She couldn't believe that after all this time, Giles was still so uncomfortable about Angel. Okay… so maybe she could believe it…

"Yes, he'll be here. He wants to know what's going on as much as we do. He wants to be involved." She told him.

"Yes, of course." Giles said, turning to the door, "He wants to assuage his own guilt…" he mumbled bitterly as he walked out.

"I heard that!" Buffy shouted at him.

~~~~~

Angel was glad it was such an easy trip to get to Giles' house through the tunnels. The late morning was bright and sunny, and the licking rays he avoided as he walked told that the day was brighter than usual.

He came up under the apartment building and sniffed the air. He could smell rats and dryer sheets, but no people. He would have to remember to tell Giles about the rats.

He sprang easily out of the drain, slid the cover back on, and made his way quietly up the basement stairs.

Angel had always respected Giles. Leave it to a man well versed in the ways and legends of the armies of darkness to know a demon OB-GYN. What most worried him was that Giles felt they needed one.

He found himself reciting the Hail Mary over and over again in his head as he approached the front door and forced his hand to knock. He hadn't even thought about the prayers of his childhood for over two centuries… but somehow he felt a desperate need for them, now… however hollow they might be.

No one answered his soft knock, but it was unlocked, and he was already invited and expected, so he entered. He looked slowly around the living room, and finally found Buffy sleeping on the couch. Her face was peaceful and serene… he might even go so far as to say beatific, however silly it sounded.

Angel crept around the couch and took his usual perch at the kitchen island, so he could watch her sleeping without disturbing her. He thought once again about her insistence on seeing the Oracles. She had a right to know, didn't she? A right, certainly… but did he want her to collect its bounty? Every day, he remembered being human… being with her… and every day it ate away at his heart a little more. To have held his fondest dream in his arms and then have to let it slip away, never to return again? It was the worst pain he'd ever experienced. He simply couldn't let Buffy suffer that way. And, knowing her as well as he did, he knew that she would suffer that much and more.

Whether she thought she wanted the memories back or no, Angel didn't know if he was willing to help her get them. He couldn't bear to have any part in bringing that burden on her -- it was his to bear, and his alone.

By the time Buffy woke, stirred, and smiled up at him, he was resolute. Whatever might happen between them now, it was between them, now… not some dreamed-of-might-have-been.

They would just have to make do, as they always had.

~~~~~

Dr. Spicer was a handsome woman with a kind face. She was clearly British -- practically a tweed carbon copy of Giles, in the old days. She carried very little by way of personal things, but Angel was enlisted to carry a lot of heavy gear -- bags and boxes of unidentifiable origin that he could only assume contained her equipment.

Once all the luggage was inside, Giles introduced them around.

"Dr. Erin Spicer, this is Buffy Summers, and her… uh… Angel… the… baby's father."

Dr. Spicer smiled at Buffy and at 'her Angel' as she shook their hands. She found herself thinking what a lovely pair they were -- he, so broad and dark, and she his polar opposite, tiny and sunshine gold.

"It's a great pleasure to meet both of you. Especially you, my dear", she said sincerely, "Imagine. A Slayer! I've never come face to face with one of you, before."

Buffy was nervous and irritated. She knew Dr. Spicer was trying to be nice, but it immediately got on her nerves.

"Have you ever come face to face with a vampire before?" She said testily.

Angel and Giles both stared at her in embarrassed shock, but Dr. Spicer remained unruffled.

"As a matter of fact, I have." She said evenly, "But not one with a soul, I believe…" she patted Angel's arm amicably, making him jump a little. "Shall we sit and talk before we begin?"

Buffy shrugged and sat back down on the couch. Angel sat next to her, and Giles and the doctor each took a chair.

"Now." The doctor began, "Mr. Giles has told me some of your concerns. If I understand correctly, Angel was briefly human, resulting in this pregnancy, correct?"

Buffy frowned. "I don't know. Ask him. I wasn't there." She gestured toward Angel.

The doctor looked truly surprised for the first time. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's a very long story, Erin." Giles cut in, "Our concern is that, despite the fact that Angel was, supposedly, human when the conception occurred, that there might be… er… some… unusual side effects…"

"Plus young Ms. Summers' dubious distinction as Slayer." She turned to look at Buffy once again. "You had some difficulties with the government… The Initiative, I believe it was called?"

Buffy nodded.

"I see. Can you describe any of what was done to you?" the doctor asked.

"They poked me a lot." Buffy replied shortly.

"Mmhm." Dr. Spicer wrote in her leather-bound notebook, "And they examined you…"

Buffy nodded. "They drew a lot of blood and amniotic fluid, and gave me some injections."

"Injections? Of what sort?"

"We don't know." Giles said.

Dr. Spicer nodded and added to her notes, before she looked up again.

"And how have you been feeling?" She asked Buffy.

The Slayer stared at her. She didn't want to be here, trying to field questions she really couldn't answer. What she really wanted, despite acquiescing to Angel the day before, were those answers for herself.

She hated this feeling -- the feeling that, once again, the direction of her life was completely out of her control, and the decisions that guided it were made by others, without her.

"Fine." She answered.

Giles sighed, exasperated at Buffy's rude behavior, and removed his glasses, leaning closer to the couple on the couch. "Buffy, please. This is for your own benefit… and that of your child."

Buffy looked at him. She was tired of being poked and prodded and examined.

Angel leaned toward her. "He's right, Buffy. We need to know what to expect."

Buffy exhaled hard. "Okay. I've been tired. And bloated. And I crave raw meat all the time."

Angel and Giles both gave her shocked looks once again.

"You didn't tell me that…" Angel said, suddenly concerned.

Buffy shrugged. "I don't tell you a lot of things."

Angel sat back, wounded.

"Actually, it's not entirely unusual for any woman to crave high iron and protein foods during the first six months of pregnancy." Dr. Spicer told Angel, then turned back to Buffy, "Have you been sleeping well?"

Buffy never slept well. "No worse than usual."

"Any shortness of breath? Dizziness?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Any spotting or unusual discharge?"

Giles and Angel both fidgeted awkwardly.

"Nope." Buffy answered.

"Good. Well, your color is good, and you appear to be carrying normally. Have you had any strange dreams or visions?"

"No…" Buffy said, a little startled at the sudden change in the line of questioning.

"Voices?"

"Other than these two nagging, no." she quipped.

The doctor smiled. "Any strange urges? Especially ones involving violence?"

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at her. "Violence is kind of my job."

Erin considered her evenly. "Of course. Unusual urges, then, to hurt others, especially to draw blood?"

Angel didn't like these implications, at all.

"No." Buffy answered.

"Excellent." Dr. Spicer said, "I've read your medical records, and they indicate that both of you are in perfect health -- extraordinarily so, in fact, and you show none of the signs usually present in human/demon pregnancies. However, I would like to examine you myself and perform some less orthodox tests."

Buffy nodded. "Okay."

The doctor turned to look at Giles, "The saliva and skin samples sent to me by Buffy's doctor is in the process of DNA testing. All signs should point to human parentage, but we won't know for certain for several days."

Giles nodded.

"Now. Is there somewhere private where I may examine Buffy?"

Giles rose and gestured to the stairs. "Of course. My room would probably be best."

Erin turned to look at Angel. "Could I enlist your help in moving the equipment, young man?" She asked.

Angle flinched at little at her calling him 'young man', but didn't hesitate to stand. She indicated the largest crate, and he hauled it up the stairs to Giles' bedroom. Giles grabbed some of the smaller packages, and followed.

Dr. Spicer looked at Buffy, who still sat, tense, on the couch. The doctor ducked her head down to get the Slayer's attention, and Buffy finally looked up at her.

"Don't worry, my dear. We will take good care of you." she said reassuringly.

Buffy looked woefully at her, and nodded.


	4. Other Considerations

It was long past dark when Angel walked her home. She was exhausted, and still testy, tired of being everybody's favorite petrie dish, and feeling like an enormously fat, walking bruise.

Angel walked alongside her, but without touching her. The long afternoon had made him irritable, as well, and Buffy's clean mystical bill of health did little to easy his worries. She scowled slightly, obviously lost in thought. He wondered about what, but didn't ask.

Buffy was thinking about the doctor. Now that she was 99% sure that the child she carried was human, she didn't understand why she should still feel so confused. Once again, she thought of The Day That Wasn't.

She shuffled slowly along, remembering his soft voice telling her the story.

"You were going to leave… once we decided that slow was the best way… then you touched me, and it was like my every cell was on fire, and starving for you… I couldn't… I couldn't touch you enough…"

Enough. Fire. Starvation. Longing. All words she easily associated with her feelings for him, over the years. Could it really be any different between them, now? Could they, honestly, find a way to be happy together, when none of their circumstances had changed, but one? They were bound now, by flesh and blood as well as heart and soul… but he was still who he was, and she was still who she was.

The truce, the neutral peace, that had fallen over them since his return to Sunnydale was a farce. They were pretending, for the sake of their child. Angel was by her side out of a sense of duty… out of fear for her safety, and his guilt… not because anything had really changed between them. All of the reasons for his leaving still existed, and only this child made him stay.

Was that the kind of life she wanted for herself and her baby? Was that what she wanted from him?

Buffy stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and her heart skipped a beat. She remembered telling him once, so long ago, "What I want from you, I can never have…" It still held true. She wanted him… all of him, all of the time, and there was still no way he could give it to her.

The walk to her house crawled past, but it was really only minutes until they stood on her front doorstep.

Buffy looked up at Angel. She could see that old pain in his eyes, and she knew he was thinking the very same thoughts as she. But how much harder it must be for him now, having also to remember the brief moment in which it seemed he could have given her everything she ever wanted.

He stared down at her tenderly, and began to reach up to touch her, but she flinched away.

"We can't do this." She said suddenly, "I mean… I can't do this. I can't pretend that everything's okay between us anymore."

Angel visibly froze, hurt growing across his features. But in a moment, it was gone, and his neutral mask was back.

He was almost relieved. It was obvious that Buffy had been trying to squeeze him back into her life, like the proverbial square peg in the round hole. He wanted so badly for them to build a life together… for their own sakes as well as that of their child… but he knew also that she simply didn't have the same feelings for him that she once had. Or, if she did, she had worked furiously over the past year to suppress them.

He nodded sadly. "I know." He said.

Buffy sighed deeply and shook her head. "I want everything to be alright between us, Angel. I want us to share this experience together… But I honestly don't know what else I want." She looked down, unable to bear the pain he couldn't keep from his eyes.

"I understand." He said flatly, "I agree."

"I hope so." Buffy went on, "I just… I need some time… I need to decide what all of this means… if we can really be together…"

He said nothing.

She looked back up at him again, "So… I'd just like to be by myself for a while, okay?"

He considered her carefully. "Okay."

Buffy nodded, surprised that she wasn't crying. "Okay, then… goodnight. I'll call you." she said, and walked into the house.

Angel stood on the front steps, reeling from the sensation of his heart breaking once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia was waiting for Angel when he returned to the mansion. Part of him was glad to see her there, as he didn't really feel like being alone, but most of him was unprepared for her inevitable grilling.

"It's about time." She said, "I've been waiting for hours. And, you know, it's cold in here!" She hugged her thin arms to herself in illustration.

Angel looked at her. "Why didn't you build a fire?" he asked, indicating the six chords of wood piled on the garden patio behind her.

She stared at him in shock. "Build? A fire?" she asked, s though she'd never heard anything so ludicrous.

Angel sighed and set about building one himself.

//I guess former princesses don't build fires. Even to keep warm. Better frozen to death than sooty…'

"So, how'd it go?" Cordy asked, "I'm not going to have to take all those cute outfits back, am I? Because I don't think I can! They were on sale!"

Once the fire had started, he collapsed beside her on the couch.

"She's fine." He said.

Cordelia stared at her friend. He had that old look on his face. That hopeless look that he always used to wear… Until the past year or so. It had almost been replaced with an easy, friendly smile… sometimes. At least, he hadn't been so dark and broody… and he laughed at her jokes…

Now, suddenly, he had Buffy Face again.

"That's it? Fine? Then why do you look like you just ate your puppy?"

Angel rubbed his face with his hands, and continued staring into the fire.

"It's nothing. " he said, "The baby's fine. Buffy's fine. All the test came back clear. They're just waiting for the DNA results."

"Ah. Well, that explains your look of utter misery."

Angel wished, sometimes, like tonight, that he had never taken Cordelia so far into his confidence.

Too late, now. She and Wesley were staying here with him, and he knew she would never leave him alone until he gave her something.

"More of the same." He said, cryptically.

"Buffy troubles? Like there's any other kind…" she said.

He shot her a look. "Buffy says she needs some time." He told her.

Cordelia shrugged. "Well, she's been through a lot. Not like you've never disappeared for days on end by yourself before…"

Angel got up and moved back to the fireplace, leaning heavily on the mantle. "All of this just brings back all the pain again, for her. We've been back together for all the wrong reasons, and she's just starting to realize it. We've been trying to forget or ignore everything that came before. All these tests, today… all the worries about the baby…t hey just reminded her what she got herself into, when she got involved with me."

Cordelia scowled. "Are you kidding? None of this is new, Angel… you've been through worse together! Far worse, like, you trying to kill her, and then her sending you to Hell, and then you left…"

Angel cut her off with another look. "That's exactly my point. Before this… before the baby… she was moving on… making as normal a life for herself as she could…" he looked down at the fire, "With Riley… but once again, I got her into something that sucked all of the hope and the possibilities right out of her life."

Cordelia frowned harder. "Why, because you loved her enough to give up everything for her? That makes sense…"

He turned on her, "Most of the worst things that have every happened to Buffy in her life have been because of me! Don't you get it?" he snarled.

She stood and glared at him. "No, I don't get it!" she snapped, "Jus because Buffy doesn't know what you gave up for her, and just because the Oracles screwed up, doesn't make what Buffy's going through your fault!"

She stomped over to the hearth, pointing her finger in his face. "I know you, Angel! And I know Buffy! And neither of you can every think straight when it comes to the other to save your sorry lives. Maybe she does need some time. Maybe you do, too. But I bet both of you are eventually just going to come back to the same old answer that you always do…"

Angel was shocked by her angry outburst, and stared at her, a hurt expression in his eyes. Cordy felt herself soften at the look of him.

"Hey…" she said gently, "Just give her some time. She loves you… you love her… Angel, maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe the Oracles didn't make a mistake at all…"

He continued to stare at her, speechless. It was a possibility he hadn't even considered…

She shrugged and backed away. "Whatever. You're both grown-ups." She said, and walked down the hall toward the guest room, "Good night."

"Good night." He replied, watching her go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Joyce could feel the house shaking from the pounding on the front door. She ran down the hall into the foyer and peaked out thorough the small windows in the top. At 11 p.m., she expected at least an emergency… or maybe some kind of demon, coming to eat them.

Instead, she found herself looking down at Xander's cute little girlfriend, Anya.

She opened the door, "Hello, Anya. Isn't it a little late…"

"Hi, Mrs. Uh… Buffy's mother. I have a plant." She said, holding her burden out before her.

Joyce stared down at it. It was by far the ugliest plantlife she had ever seen: a mottled purplish-green color, with giant, waxy, pointed leaves ad a thorny trunk. She smiled politely and took it from the girl.

"Thank you, Anya. It's… lovely." She said as sincerely as she could.

Anya looked at her. "It's not for you. It's for the baby. Although I still can't figure out why we're giving presents to something that's not even born yet."

Joyce stared at the odd young woman. //Straightforward… an interesting trait…// "Would you like to come in for a glass of soda? Buffy's watching TV."

Anya shrugged. "I guess that would be appropriate. But, no soda. It gives me gas."

Buffy's mother and the ex-demon joined Buffy in the living room. Her eyebrows rose in surprise when she saw Anya, and scrunched when she saw the ugly plant her mother carried.

"Xander says I should come over and bring you things… tell you how nice you look and stuff." She looked Buffy up and down, "But, really… you're kind of blotchy, and…"

"Hi, Anya." Buffy said, smiling weakly. She was well used to Anya's inappropriate little speeches. She did try hard, though…

Anya turned and snatched the plant from Joyce, who started in shock. Anya proffered the monstrosity to Buffy.

"I brought a plant." She said, 'You mother wanted it, but I told her it was for you… or, for your young, rather."

Buffy nodded and took it, giving her mother an 'I'll explain later.' Look. Joyce withdrew.

"It's… chartreuse…" Buffy observed, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"It's a Fire Eating Garsholowalt. It senses strong negative emotions like pain, anger, and fear, and it eats them. Then it blooms." Anya told her.

Buffy looked at it. "Sounds handy. Would you like to sit down?" She gestured toward the couch.

"Not really, but Xander says I should stay at least ten minutes when I visit." Anya said, and sat. Buffy sat on the couch, setting the Fire Eater down on the coffee table.

"Where is he? Xander, I mean…" Buffy asked her.

Anya shrugged. "Spike took him somewhere."

"Oh." Buffy said. She couldn't even begin to imagine where.

"I know I'm not supposed to ask things like this, but… I have to know. Why aren't you nesting with your mate?" she shook her head, "I mean, pairing with Angel? Or… whatever… I thought men liked to be all protective of their mates and offspring."

Although, she thought of Xander's father, and his habit of completely ignoring his only son, and reconsidered the validity of the idea.

Buffy looked at the plant. "No. We're not… I'm… I'm taking some time for myself."

Anya stared at her. "Why?"

"Because… I need it."

"Oh. So you're breaking up, then."

"No. We were never back together." Buffy said flatly.

"Oh. I'm confused." Anya said.

"Join the club…"

"Well, you must have been together at some point, because…" she gestured toward Buffy's bulging stomach.

"Mm." Buffy said, "So everyone keeps telling me."

Anya was completely confused by Buffy's apparent refusal to accept the truth. "You mean, you don't believe it? Angel's story? How do you think you got… gestating, then?"

Buffy didn't look at her, or reply.

"Well." Anya said, looking at her watch, "Ten minutes is up. I'm leaving." She rose unceremoniously and walked to the front door, turning back as though she'd forgotten something. "Oh, yeah. Don't' give the plant water. It likes ammonia." She said, and left.


	5. The Powers That Be What?

Buffy woke early. Her dreams last night had made her sleep anything but restful, but she sprang out of bed anyway, and got dressed.

She'd been thinking about this since Anya's visit the night before. Actually, longer than that… she had been thinking about it since way back before she had even left the hospital the first time. It had consumed her every thought since.

But she hadn't taken any action before now, because she had no idea what action to take. Last night, during one of her dreams, the answer came to her in the form of a kindly face with piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and a lilting Irish brogue. Buffy couldn't see him clearly, but she knew the face was familiar, and she could hear his words as clear as a bell.

"Cordelia knows how to get the answers you seek," he'd told her, "If you ask her nicely… Okay, if you buy her something expensive… she'll show you the way."

Buffy looked over at her alarm clock. 10 a.m. Time for Cordy to get up.

But still too early for Angel…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Cordelia was waiting for her when Buffy arrived at the mansion. She sat on the top garden step, painting her toenails.

Buffy tried to act nonchalant as she approached. "You're up early…" she said to her… friend.

Cordelia glanced up, and gave the Slayer a good thrice-over.

"You're wearing that? What happened to that nice blue outfit you got at Mommies' World? You can't go talk to the Oracles wearing…" she gestured at Buffy's outfit, "That. You look like a house."

Buffy was torn between telling Cordelia to take a long leap off a short pier, and asking how the Hell she knew she was coming and why. She chose the latter.

"How did you…"

"Doyle told me in a dream I had last night," she looked wistfully off into the distance, "I forgot how funny he was…"

Buffy knew that she was being as insensitive and self-centered at Cordelia herself usually was, by not offering some sympathy. But she had focus, drive, energy, and most of all, the courage, to do what had to be done, and they had to do it now, before she lost any of them.

"We have to bring a gift," Buffy began.

Cordelia interrupted her by holding up an antique painting in an expensive looking silver frame. Buffy gave her a look.

"He won't notice. Come on, we've got a long drive," Cordy said, and led Buffy off to her car, trying not to ruin her polish as she walked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy squinted up at the carvings atop the enormous marble gateway.

"What is that, Russian?" she asked, nodding to the unfamiliar characters.

Cordelia held her nose as she poured the required smelly herbs into the offering dish.

"I don't know. It's the Gateway for Lost Souls," She said.

Buffy scowled. "The Gateway for Lost Souls is under the Post Office?"

Cordy ignored her. She was concentrating intensely on trying to remember what Doyle had told her. She remembered bits and pieces of their long conversation, but mostly, she remembered him reaching out and touching her face, and saying,

"That's all you have to say. It's simple, see? And make sure you visualize her strongly. If you don't do it right, you're toast. And if anything happens to Buffy, and you don't die? Angel will kill you,"

Why could she remember that long part, and not the one little line she had to say to open the portal?

"Oh, god, Doyle…" she moaned.

Buffy came to stand next to her, and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Cordy looked up and nodded with tears in her eyes.

"We don't have to do this, Cordelia. We can wait…" Buffy offered.

Cordelia straightened and stood tall. "No. No way. Doyle came to me in a dream, and that's the next best thing to the Powers sending you an engraved invitation," she said, and setting a determined look on her pretty features, looked deep into the offering dish, visualizing Buffy as strongly as she could.

//Here goes nothing…//

"Um… hi? It's Cordelia Chase, your uh… message person? We really, really want to see the… um… oh! The Knowing Ones! Or… The Ones Who Know?"

Buffy stared at her. That couldn't possibly be right.

But a blinding light suddenly filled the room, and a clap of thunder echoed off the cavern walls, causing both women to jump.

"Okay. I think they'll see you, now," Cordy told Buffy.

The Slayer didn't hesitate to walk into the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel slept like a rock. Or, more appropriately, like the dead. Most days, he rose long before noon, for there was always something for him to do around the office, or some reading he barely had time for, anymore.

But since his return to Sunnydale, all he could seem to do was sleep. This was more action than he was used to, these days. He'd forgotten how much energy it took to walk in the Slayer's world.

//Well, you might not have to worry about it for much longer…//

And then, last night, there had been that dream… Angel had found himself in an old Galway pub that he had frequented as a young man… when he looked over to the bar, he was utterly shocked to see Doyle sitting there, incongruous in his tacky duds amongst all of the other patrons in their 18th century garb. Angel looked down at himself, and found he was wearing what he wore every day… black slacks, black shirt. But he was barefoot.

He hated dreams that so mixed the mundane and the nonsensical.

He approached the bar, and stood next to Doyle. The little Irishman grinned up at him.

"Doyle," Angel greeted him, as though they'd met only yesterday, and this rendezvous was a regular occurrence.

"Angel, man, how are ya?" he asked, downed his shot, and motioned to the barkeep for another.

Angel couldn't help but stare. "I'm… I… guess I'm okay…"

Doyle nodded. "Good. I hear congratulations are in order!" he exclaimed, "Imagine, you and the Slayer, breedin' an' all… Let me buy ya a drink."

Angel smiled and nodded at his lost friend. He thought his heart might break, just sitting there looking at him.

"I've missed you," he told the ghost honestly.

Doyle looked up at him, "Ah… that's sweet a ya, but… don't waste your time. I'm in a better place. Literally. I tell ya, wine, women and song, all the good day long," he chuckled.

Angel felt some relief to realize Doyle must be saying he was in some sort of heaven. Of course, this was just a dream, so it might have only been his mind, fulfilling his fondest wishes… assuaging his consuming guilt…

Their shots came, and Doyle held his up. "To my good friend and his lady fair… and the miracle child. May he never have to battle demons of any sort."

"Hear hear," Angel said enthusiastically. The two men clinked their glasses and downed their shots.

"Well, I don't have much time," Doyle said, "This place is lovely, your dreamland… but I've got things to do… other people to visit…"

"So, this isn't just a dream? You're here for a reason," Angel stated.

Doyle laughed. "Hell, man, everything happens for a reason, even here! I've come to bring ya a message."

"Okay…" Angel said, waiting.

"Be gentle with the Slayer," Doyle said, "And keep your eyes on the gifts."

Angel stared at him. "What?"

Doyle shrugged. "That's it."

Then Angel woke, alone in his bed on Crawford Street.

He got his coffee from the kitchen and went into the living room, where he found Wesley sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of cornflakes and watching cartoons. His hair stuck up in all directions and he wore an old pair of flannel pajamas. The scene was a silly one, and Angel couldn't help but smile. He sat next to the Rogue Demon Hunter on the couch.

"Morning," He said.

"Actually," Wesley corrected him, "It's long past noon. I've only just risen myself. I overslept, I'm afraid… Odd dreams."

Angel nodded. "Me too."

The two men watched TV in silence for awhile, before Angel finally realized something was missing.

"Where's Cordelia?" he asked.

Wesley looked at him, "Ah! Thank you for reminding me. I almost forgot! She left rather early this morning, it appears. She left this…"

He picked a piece of paper off the table and handed it to Angel.

'Took Buffy to L.A. Back Later!

CC.'

 

Angel stared at it. "Why would Cordelia take Buffy to Los Angeles?" he wondered aloud.

Wesley gave him a funny look. "You are joking, right?"

Angel thought for another moment, then realized… it was the obvious thing… The only thing that Buffy could do in the city that she would need, or want, Cordelia around for…

"Shopping," He said.

Wesley nodded. "I believe you'll find there's not much else they do together at all," He said.

Angel nodded. The two women had never been the best of friends, and the closer Angel had become to Cordelia, the less they seemed to like each other. Only unfettered, all-American gluttony could possibly bring those two together.

"I saw Doyle in my dream last night…" Angel said quietly.

Wesley stared at him, quickly clicking off the television, and putting his cereal bowl down on the table.

"Oh?" He said vaguely.

Angel sighed. "He had a message for me. More cryptic than anything I've ever heard, I think."

"Wh… what did he say?" Wesley asked.

" 'Be gentle with the Slayer. And keep your eyes on the gifts.'" Angel quoted.

Wesley frowned. "That is either terribly frightening, smashingly mundane, or so vague that it must be utter nonsense," He said.

"Those were exactly my thoughts.. Maybe… maybe it was just a dream. Maybe he was just telling me that I shouldn't… that I shouldn't just walk away from Buffy, no matter what she might say."

Wesley regarded him seriously, "I might be inclined to agree, but…"

Angel looked at him. "But what?"

"But… I too, dreamt of Mr. Doyle last night. And he had as cryptic a message for me. 'The gifts are the key,' he told me."

"That's it?" Angel asked.

Wesley nodded. "That is, indeed, it. I find it interesting that he mentioned gifts to both of us."

Angel concentrated hard. "Gifts… So should we be watching the baby gifts more carefully? Could something be planning to get to Buffy and the baby that way?"

"It could be… but then, would such an odd missive have such an obvious meaning? Messages from the beyond rarely do."

"Gifts…" Angel thought aloud, "Maybe we should do some research."

Wesley nodded. "For certain. And perhaps we should also consult Mr. Giles -- this does have to do with Buffy, after all."

"And he has resources we don't," Angel added.

"Precisely. Then we're agreed. Let us finish watching the Road Runner, and then I'll call him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Doyle sighed. He really didn't think it was fair, that he should be this tired from his travels the previous night.

Or was it just a couple of minutes ago? He wasn't exactly tied into the mortal concept of time, anymore. But either way, as a ghost… or an angel, or whatever he was, shouldn't assignments for the Powers That Be be a snap? He felt like he could lie down and sleep until it was his turn to be reborn.

But no, he had to give a full report, first.

"Well?" came the usual faceless voice out of the darkness.

Doyle was never quite certain which was worse -- the splitting headaches that used to come with messages from The Powers, or this creepy feeling like worms were crawling in his soul that he got when he was called before the Council now.

"The messages have been delivered, as you asked," He said to absolutely no one.

"Excellent. All is in motion, then," The Voice said.

It was a completely indefinable voice, seemingly without age, gender, or species… Which seemed to be the way it always went, with Gods. They had a real thing about being mysterious.

"So, do you care to tell me exactly what I was telling them, and why?" he asked, knowing his impertinence could cost him his fluffy cloud, but almost not caring. He simply had to know.

"No," The Voice told him.

Doyle felt the soul worms stop, and he knew that he had been dismissed. He thought longingly, for a moment, of those he had left behind… Cordelia, Angel, Harrie… It had felt so good to see them all again, if only in the Dreaming.

But then, he thought of his fellow… whatever… Wanda, and the endless supply of fine Irish whiskey waiting for him beyond the pale.

He promised himself he could just as easily keep an eye on Sunnydale from his nice warm bed, as here, in limbo. They would be alright. They always took care of each other.


	6. The Best Laid Plans

Buffy looked around her. The room, if it was really a room at all, was made entirely of clean, shining marble, and lit from a source she couldn't immediately determine.

Before who stood two creatures, no larger than she herself, but whose attitude and posture gave the impression of boundless strength and wisdom. They were a shiny metallic color, sometimes bronze and sometimes blue, with pale blue eyes, and wore costumes that looked… Greek? Roman?

She suddenly wished she had paid more attention to history class, in high school.

"The Slayer," the female said, "What have you brought us?"

Buffy held up the painting Cordelia had filched from Angel. It flew from her hands to the Female's, and she set to examining it.

"It's by…um… somebody famous. Mateest, I think?" She told them.

The Female nodded, and the offering disappeared.

The Male stepped forward, and looked Buffy up and down curiously. She fidgeted under a gaze that she was certain saw far more than just her surface.

"It has been many of your years since we have had cause to speak with one of the Sisterhood," The Female said, watching her brother, "You have always interested us."

The Male moved away from Buffy and took his place at his sister's side once again.

"Why have you come here, mortal?" he asked.

Buffy took a deep breath and stood up as proudly as she could. "My… Angel… the baby's father… came to you some time ago," she said.

The Female brightened noticeably. "Yes. Your Champion. He too, fascinates me."

//Did her brother just give her a dirty look?//

"We did as he requested. You still live, do you not? And he still battles by your side, as a demon," the Male said.

"Well… yeah. Kind of…" Buffy mumbled.

The Female looked at her quizzically. "Then, I ask again, 'Why have you come here?'"

Buffy couldn't believe their arrogance. She felt a flash of anger rush through her, and the baby began to kick. She lay her hand protectively over her stomach.

"You kind of botched your handiwork." She snapped.

The Female strode forward once again and looked down at Buffy's belly. The baby suddenly calmed.

"You are with the vampire's child," she observed.

"Exactly!" Buffy said, "When you swallowed the day? It doesn't look like you got it all down."

The Female smiled mysteriously at her, but said nothing.

"Mortal, you waste our time!" the male bellowed.

The Female spun and glared at him. "Patience, brother," she said, and turned back to Buffy, "What is it you wish from us?"

Buffy met her gaze despite the cold shiver that ran through her body.

"I want it back," she said, 'I want the Day That Wasn't back. All of it."

The Female blinked.

"That is impossible," the Male snapped, "We have twisted the fabric of time enough for you mortals."

"What is done cannot be undone," the Female said, "There can be no returning. Too many important changes have occurred since your mate came to us. Things that would have terrible consequences in your world if they were to be reversed."

Buffy stared down at the floor.

The Female went on, leaning closer to Buffy, and speaking gently to her, as if to a small girl, "Do you not want this child?" she asked.

Buffy looked back up and into the Female's eternal gaze, "Of course I do. But… I have to know…" tears began to press against her eyes, "I want to remember…"

The Male approached and came to stand once again beside the Female.

"That day is already gone. Only the mate remembers. We have done enough for you, already," he said, still firm, but with more compassion at the sight of the Slayer's tears.

She looked him in the eye, "You don't understand. I'm having this child -- this incredible child, and I can't remember how, or why. I can't bear to be in the same room with Angel, because I can't remember anything that happened between us that day," she cast her eyes down again, "You stole it from me. He stole it from me. And now I have nothing…"

"You have your child… his child." The Female reminded her, "And the memories of all the many days that came before… and all the many that will come after."

Buffy nodded, crying harder now, "I know, but it's not the same. He was human. We… we were together, without any of the other stuff we usually have to worry about getting in the way," she looked from one Oracle to the other once again, "You had no right to take that from me without my consent. You had no right to alter my life that way!"

The Male puffed up and glared down at her, "IMPERTINENT! You DARE!"

The Female held her hand up to silence him, "She is correct. We have violated her will. A mortal has a right to all of the days of their life. Otherwise, how are they to fully understand its path?"

Buffy brightened a little, "Then you'll…"

The Male walked angrily away, and the Female glanced at him.

"No. We cannot refold time, but…" she listened to something that Buffy couldn't hear in the air, "We can return the memories to you. The Auguries say it will be… a gift."

Buffy smiled, "Really? You'll let me remember?"

The Female nodded, and smile warmly in return, "My brother has not much compassion for the plight of mortals, nor much interest in the ways of human love. But he too understands that humans require certain things, if you are to battle in our name. Shelter… security… love… memories."

She turned and joined her brother on the far side of the room.

"This gift will not be a simple burden for you, Buffy Summers. Nor for your Champion. But your child is a gift from the Gods. A gift for all of humanity. It should understand its beginnings."

The Male seemed to slump a little into his shiny skin.

"Return to your home, mortal. When you sleep this night, all shall be made clear. By the sun's rising tomorrow, you will remember."

The pair began to fade.

"Do not return to us again on this matter," The Female said, "Whatever you might feel about the gifts you receive…"

"Gifts?" Buffy asked.

But they were already gone. A blinding light consumed her once again, and the next thing she knew, she was flying across the underground cavern at the Gateway for Lost Souls.

"Oh my god!" Cordelia squealed, and stumbled to catch her.

The two women fell roughly to the ground with matching "Oof"'s. Cordy stood, gave Buffy both a glare and a hand up.

"God, how much weight have you gained?" she snapped.

Buffy brushed herself off and gave Cordelia a withering look.

"So, it didn't work?" Cordy asked.

"No, it worked.'

"But you just went in!"

Buffy looked at her, "Time moves differently, there," she said.

"Oh. So? What did they say? Are they going to send you back?"

Buffy shook her head, "No. But they're going to do the next best thing."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was long past sunset when the two women returned to the mansion, and found Angel pacing angrily in the garden. He sensed the Slayer's approach and rushed to her, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.

"Where have you been?" he barked, "We've been worried sick!"

Buffy flinched, "We… we…"

"We went shopping. What are you, her mother?" Cordy cut in, brushing past them and going into the mansion. Buffy broke Angel's grip, and scrambled after her.

The two women were shocked to find the entire gang gathered in the living room, staring at them.

Except Oz, who appeared typically unruffled, and Spike, who was busy watching Walker, Texas Ranger on the big screen TV.

"Shopping?" Cordelia offered weakly in response to the unasked question that hung in the air.

"Then where, might I ask, are you bags?" Wesley asked, gesturing to Cordelia's empty arms.

"We didn't… find… anything?" Cordy mumbled.

"See?" Xander said, "I told you they went shopping!"

Willow shot him a withering look. Giles had called them all together, frantic after a similar call from Wesley revealed that Buffy and Cordelia had disappeared suddenly, leaving only a mysterious note saying they'd gone to LA as a clue what had happened.

"We were worried about you," Willow offered, "We didn't know if something happened…"

Cordelia was suddenly less cowed, and more offended. She put her hands on her hips and marched to the group, giving the collective a haughty glare, "Ex-cuse me, but the last time I checked, we were living in a free country!"

The room seemed to explode with noise as everyone began shouting at once.

Angel grabbed Buffy's arm, and pulled her out into the garden. She could see the fear and worry etched into his features.

"Where have you really been, Buffy?" he asked, looking down at her, "And don't tell me shopping. Cordelia may not realize it, but she's a terrible liar."

Buffy looked up into his eyes, and unable to face him, looked down at the flagstones again. He was going to be even more furious when he found out where she had really gone. She was full of nervous excitement about rediscovering the day her child was conceived, and even Angel's anger didn't seem to dull that anticipation. She could hardly concentrate on what he was saying, she wanted so badly to go to bed.

"Cordelia took me to see the Oracles," she told him, looking up into his face again.

The look of horror that flashed in his eyes took her by surprise.

"You did what?" he hissed.

"I… I went to see the Oracles," she repeated.

Angel let go of her arm and sank onto one of the benches nearby. He covered his face with his hands.

"Why? Why would you do that, Buffy?" his voice was muffled by his hands, "I thought we agreed it would be safer to wait."

"No, you agreed." Buffy snapped, "It's not your decision to make! You stole that day from me, and I had a right to get it back! Do you think you're the only one who deserves to remember?"

He looked up at her in obvious agony.

"You talk about this… these memories, like they're a gift, Buffy. They're not. Not entirely. They're another curse I have to bear… remembering what it felt like to…" he hesitated, and thought better of what he had been about to say, "I wanted to spare you that. "One of us had to remember, to make sure that history wasn't repeated. It should have only been me."

Buffy sat beside him, "I have to know, Angel. I need this. And the Oracles agreed."

He looked deeply into her eyes, "You don't want this, Buffy. You don't want this pain. It's… it's unbearable, to know what we had for that one moment in time, and to know that we can never have it again. It tears me apart inside, every day. I don't want you to have to go through that… not with everything else you've had to shoulder because of me."

Buffy slowly reached up and brushed away a tear that rolled down his pale cheek, "You forget," she said softly, "I already have this." She took Angel's hand and placed it on her stomach. "Do you know how much it hurts, knowing that I had what I've wanted for as long as I can remember, and not even having a single memory of it?"

He said nothing.

"Well, it hurts a lot," she finished, "Anything would be better than this… not knowing."

Angel stared at her, tears flowing freely from his warm brown eyes, "You don't know what you're saying," he said, his voice breaking, "You don't know."

Buffy shook her head. "I do know. I know how hard it will be. But it's my decision to make. It has to be this way, for me."

Angel closed his eyes and sighed, resigned in the face of her trademark stubbornness, "How… what will happen?" he whispered.

"Tonight. They said by the time I get up tomorrow, I'll remember everything," she told him.

He nodded, and took her hand before looking up at her once more, "Then… please… stay here, tonight. Let me be with you."

Buffy smiled sadly, "Okay. For tonight," she said, and softly kissed his tear-stained cheek.

 

Cordelia had explained what happened while they were gone, and despite the many and varied opinions of the others, they all agreed that it was, ultimately, Buffy's decision to make.

No one who had one mentioned their Doyle dreams.

It was agreed that Angel & Buffy should be left alone, so Cordelia and Wesley each packed a bag, and were invited to stay with Giles for the night.

Buffy and Angel returned from the patio, each obviously upset. Giles stepped forward and met them.

"We will leave the two of you… to it, " he said, and smiled at Buffy, then looked up at Angel, "You will call us, if you need anything. Anything at all."

Angel nodded, "Of course."

Giles looked once more at Buffy, "I can't say that I agree with what you've done, Buffy. But I do understand," he said.

The gang said their good-byes and slowly filed out.

Once the mansion was empty, and it was only the two of them once again, there seemed to be little else left to do or say, but get ready for bed.

Angel made a pot of chamomile tea and a plate of buttered toast, and came back to the living room. Buffy stared absently into the fire.

"I made a snack," he said.

She smiled at him, and gratefully accepted the tray he offered.

They sipped their tea and sat in silence until Buffy had finished all of the toast, and then she looked up at him.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

"I'm ready," she said.

Angel took her hand and led her up the stairs to the bedroom. When they reached the doorway, Buffy looked up at him, unsure what to do next.

"You can sleep in my bed," he said.

Buffy looked down at the bed for a moment, then eased her tired body down on the soft mattress. How many times had she lay in this very spot, napping with his strong arms around her?

Angel was thinking the same as he tucked her in. He wished, more than anything, that he could lie down with her, and hold her… maybe to shield her from some of the pain that was about to come. He resisted the urge.

When Buffy was settled, he sat in the chair next to the bed.

"You don't have to… I mean, you can sleep with me…" she said shyly.

Angel shook his head, "I doubt I'll be sleeping. I'll just stay here… to watch over you," he said.

Buffy looked at him for a moment longer, fully aware that their lives were about to change completely… again. She smiled softly, tucked her arm under the pillow, and closed her eyes.


	7. The Day That Wasn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes in (( )) are flashbacks.

Angel sat, keeping vigil beside her through the night. Her sleep was unusually active. She twitched, sighed, smiled happily, and sometimes, cried out.

He could practically trace every moment of that day simply from her dream movements. He recalled each scene himself… each smile, each loving word, each warm touch, each tear…

As he sat, looking down on his life's one and only love, the woman who had saved him, time and again, body, heart, and soul, he wondered how he could ever have had the strength to consider leaving her, let alone found what it took to actually walk away. Right now, the though of giving Buffy up was a thought akin to dying a final death -- unfathomable.

What would these memories do to their already tenuous relationship? Would she regret her decision to demand the day back, after she had it?

Angel knew this pain, in every cell of his body. The Lost Day had done nothing to quench his thirst for her… nothing to dull the gut-wrenching pain of missing her. If anything, it had only made it sharper. That day with her in his arms had only made him long for her -- love her -- more.

The Oracles had agreed to this, despite their usual callousness and arrogance. That must be a sign of something. Maybe Cordelia was right. Maybe this, and the baby, had been part of Their plan all along.

Buffy sighed deeply, and a warm, happy, contented smile played across her lips.

Angel knew exactly what she was remembering. He smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesley was utterly unable to sleep, so he crept down Giles' stairs to get a glass of milk. He hardly expected what he found -- Cordelia, sitting alone on the couch, in the dark, staring off into space.

He approached her slowly, "Cordelia? Is everything alright?"

Cordy looked up at him, her face drawn in worry. "No," she said, "It's not."

Wesley sat beside her. "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking about… today. Did I do the right thing, taking Buffy to see the Oracles? I mean, sure, baby and everything, but…"

"But what?" Wesley asked.

He couldn't help but be stunned by the way the moonlight painted soft shadows across her high cheekbones, and lent her dark, teary eyes a silvery shine…

"Angel was doing better," she answered, "He was getting on with his life. Meeting new people. Before all this happened, he was healing, you know? I mean, he was making a home… with us…" She sighed deeply, "I don't want her back in his life. I don't want him to be that unhappy again. They've never been happy together. Never."

Wesley looked at her with both surprise at her insensitivity, and compassion at her sensitivity. "I care about Angel's well-being also, Cordelia. But don't you think that they are better off together? After everything they have been through… Especially now, with their child."

Cordelia scowled at him, "No. And when did you become all 'Up-With-Buffy & Angel?' Weren't you the one who called their relationship… Oh, what was it? Oh yeah," she put on her stuffy English Airs, "An impossibly depressing state of affairs?"

Wesley blushed, and was glad for the darkness that hid it, "Well, perhaps I did, yes…"

"You definitely did," Cordy said.

"Fine. I did. But that was long before I got to know Angel. Cordelia, you are still very young. You haven't so many years of loneliness and regret to look back on. Those of us who do are more inclined to understand what it is that draws them together," he said softly.

Cordelia pretended not to notice his self-disclosure, "Buffy is my age. What does she have to regret?"

Wesley sighed and turned toward her, "Cordelia… have you never felt an irrefutable, irresistible pull toward anything? Besides shoes, that is?"

She looked into his eyes, also choosing to ignore his smart remark, and felt that little tingle overcome her again, "I… I don't… know."

Wesley inched closer to her, "There are some things that cannot be denied, however improper they might appear on the surface," he said.

"Oh," Cordelia replied as he kissed her. It was a soft, tender kiss, but it seemed to set her on… well, at least 'extra warm'. But it was suddenly so hard to breathe…

When it was finished, Wesley pulled away and smiled softly at her.

"It is very rare for two people who care for one another to be given a second chance at something wonderful," he whispered.

"Uh huh," Cordy said, "Would you do that again?"

Wesley's smile grew wider. "I would be delighted to," he said, and did as she asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((Angel softly flicked his tongue behind her ear, and she groaned, almost giggling, as he blazed a wet trail down her neck. When he reached the faded scar near the base, he stopped. He kissed the tough skin gently, and then looked up at her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Buffy looked up and into his deep, loving, *living* eyes, "For what?"

He touched the scar with the tip of his index finger.

"For that," he said, leaning on his elbow beside her, "And for… a lot of other things." There was no hurry, now. Nothing they had to worry about, but being warm and safe, here, underground, in his bed. Now he had the time to tell her all the things he never could, before. An entire human lifetime.

Buffy cocked her head and smiled a tiny, knowing smile at him, "You don't have to be," she said.

"No. I do," he said, "I've hurt you so much, so many times… But… I hope you know. All I ever *wanted* to do was love you."

She blinked, as tears welled up in her eyes, "I do," she said, "I've always known."

He rolled closer to her, about to ravish her again, when he felt something warm and gooey in the bed that didn't belong there.

"Oh, gods, yuck!" he cried out.

Buffy looked down, "Oh… ew. Peanut Butter."

Angel looked at the tan-ish gook all over the sheet, his hands, and Buffy's hindquarters.

"You were laying in it the whole time," he chuckled, "You didn't notice you were covered in peanut butter?"

"Ew ew ew ew…" Buffy began to get up, but Angel pushed her back down. He licked his lips and grinned evilly as he re-examined the mess all over her back and legs. He held his peanut-butter-coated hand up to her face and wiggled his fingers.

"I could do with a snack," he said.))  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel watched as Buffy giggled in her sleep.

//That was either the peanut butter, or the couch cushion.//

He sipped his coffee and continued to watch the best, and the most painful, day of his life play out on the features of the woman he shared it with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(("Buffy, you should really put something on!" he called to her.

"Why? You didn't!" She yelled back, "Nobody's going to come walking in here in the middle of the night, are they? Besides, we've been in bed for six hours, and I'm HUNGRY!"

"Actually, people do walk in here in the middle of the night, and you JUST ate a whole box of Twinkies like, an hour ago! Come back to bed!"

"Forget it, buddy. You've had your quota!" she laughed.

Buffy heard the bed creak, and then the pounding of his feet on the floor behind her. He growled at her, and she screeched, dashing for the couch. She dove over it and rolled, popping up on the other side, with the couch between them.

"HA! Too slow!" she taunted him.

Angel grinned seductively at her, "Do you think so?" He said in that deep tone that always made Buffy wonder if he had a particular talent for vampire-hypno-stuff. Not that it really mattered, because wherever that voice came from, it made her weak in the knees. She would never tell him any of that, of course. She fully planned to never use the words 'vampire' and 'Angel' in the same sentence, again. At least, not when he was around.

She looked his naked body up and down lustfully, "Well, I don't know… slow is sometimes good," she purred.

Angel came around the side of the couch and scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around. Buffy bent her knees so she wouldn't hit them on the coffee table, and laughed with a joy from deep within her that she had forgotten existed.

He finally put her down, and stood watching her as she regained her balance. When she did, she looked up into his eyes and smiled. He kissed her lightly, and reached down to grab a thick afghan from the back of the couch. He wrapped the two of them in it, and they sat.

The feeling of his warmth, and his strong arms around her made her certain she would never need a blanket again to protect herself from the cold.

"Watch this," he said, and looked over at the fireplace, "Lumiere," he said, and a fire immediately burst to life, filling the room with golden light.

Buffy giggled. "Cool," she said.

Giggling? Saying 'cool'? What kind of idiot pre-teen heaven had she died and gone to?

Angel didn't seem to notice, "I thought so. Handy, too, for those times you just can't be bothered to get up," he said, emphasizing his point by pulling Buffy closer. He could feel his body responding to her closeness, despite his exhaustion.

She leaned easily into him, relishing the feeling of his heart thudding against her back.

"I hate to sound like a broken record, but… this is unbelievable. Being here, like this, with you? I can't believe it's really happening…" she said.

He nuzzled into her hair, "I know," he said, "It's pretty hard for me to believe, also."

"I never thought, in a million years, that we would be here…" Buffy said.

"Mm. It opens up a whole new world of possibilities."

Buffy sighed happily, "Possibilities. That's new."

Angel leaned his head down so he could see her face, and looked deeply into her eyes, "But the hope isn't," he said softly, "The hope has been there, all along."))  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel woke with a start, his muscles stiff from sitting in the chair for so long. It was Buffy's crying that woke him… sobs that shook her so hard, the bed quivered. It was all he could do to stay where he was, and not crawl in under the covers, take her in his arms, and cry right along with her. He felt guilty, suddenly, and for the millionth time, wondered if he had made the right decision when he returned to demon-hood.

Buffy wouldn't have been needing to dream about their day together. She would remember… and there would have been hundreds more, by now. He could have kept his promise that they would make another day just like that one. And another, and another… they could have shared so many things together, by now… so many human things. Their child would be a miracle of a different kind, then, instead of a miraculous, enigmatic mystery.

But no… if he had remained human, there was every chance that one or both of them might be dead, by now, and their baby wouldn't have existed, at all…

He had done the right thing. He had done what needed to be done, as he always had. No matter how much it hurt, he knew that he could not have made any other choice.

Watching Buffy cry in her sleep did nothing to comfort him in his decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((Buffy eased his big body down onto the bed. He seemed so much heavier as a human.

"What were you two THINKING?" she groused, "What possessed you to go down there ALONE?"

Angel grunted with pain as she peeled off his blood-stained shirt. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to talk. And it hurt, to think that soon, he wouldn't feel those things again. He loved being human… even loved the "attendant pains" that came with the "attendant pleasures". But there was no way… no way he could stay like this, and leave her not only without someone as powerful as her at her back, but with a new human liability, as well. Another weakness that could be used against her in battle.

His heart hurt, too, from the decision that stole upon him as Buffy tended his wounds. She was so angry, he could feel her shaking.

"Why didn't you wake me? You should have told me what was going on. You could have been KILLED." She knew he was hurting, ashamed and upset, but she couldn't stop lecturing him, "You should have taken me."

"No. Buffy…" he objected weakly, and winced as she applied antiseptic to a gouge in his chest.

"Angel…"she sighed, "Don't argue. Here, lie down. I'll go get some ice."

She got up and went out to the kitchen, hearing the now-familiar groan of the bedsprings as he sank back down.

What was he trying to PROVE, damn it? He'd only just come back to life -- why was he already trying to get himself killed?

She grabbed a large bowl from the cabinet, and filled it with what little ice they hadn't thrown out to make room for ice cream. As she walked back to the bedroom, she thought, 'If I didn't love him so damned much, I'd kill him myself!'

Angel was so pig-headed. He was going to have to learn to let some things go, now. He wasn't a superhero anymore, and he was going to have to leave a lot of the tough stuff to her-- it was her destiny, after all. He needed to step into the rear guard of the Slayerettes, where he would still be useful, but safe. How was she going to get him to do that, when he was so used to being her second-in-command?

She came back to find Angel fast asleep, still half-clothed. She set the bowl of ice down on the nightstand, and reached down to pull off his shoes and socks. She looked down at him lovingly, smiling a little as a snore escaped his lips. She kneeled on the bed and began to undo his pants.

"Ow!" he protested.

"Sorry," Buffy said. She pulled off his pants, then removed her own clothes, and gently crawled under the covers with him. She got as close to him as possible without touching him, afraid that if she grabbed him the way she wanted to, she would hurt him more.

Angel was having none of it. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair. After a moment, Buffy realized that he was crying. She could feel his tears against her neck as they rolled off his cheeks.

She slowly turned over and looked at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. The look of pain on his face was clear through his tears.

"Angel… maybe we should take you to the hospital," she said.

He shook his head, "No. I just want to hold you," he cried, and leaned his forehead against hers," I love you, Buffy… so much…"

She gently stroked his hair, "I love you, too, Angel. More than anything. Please don't ever do that to me again. I couldn't stand to lose you. Not now…"

He looked up at last, and deep into her eyes, slowly blinking away his tears, "I won't. I promise."

"Okay," she said.

"Buffy…"

"Yes?"

"I just… I want you to know… this has been the most incredible day of my life. I'll always remember it… every second of it."

Buffy kissed him on the tip of his nose, "And just think: it's only the first."

Angel said nothing.))  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was crying so hard, she was nearly choking.

//Oh god… no… he didn't. Oh God! WHY?!//

"NO!" She screamed, and sat straight up with a start. She looked beside her, and found Angel sitting exactly where he had been the night before, only now he was bolt upright in his chair, looking worriedly at her.

A dream. She was dreaming. All the memories…

Buffy searched her mind, and replayed the scenes again, briefly. They were all there… every moment.

She burst into tears.

Angel sat, unsure if she wanted him to go to her. Would she want to be alone, to think? Her pained wailing erased any doubt from his mind. He could feel his own tears, and the pain that he had tried to repress this past year, come rushing to the surface, and he crawled forward on to the bed, grabbing her in his arms and crushing her to him.

Buffy clung to him for dear life. She was afraid that, if she didn't, he would somehow disappear, and this heart-rending pain would wash her away like a tidal wave.

"Oh god, Angel…" she sobbed into his chest, "Oh God…"

He breathed in her essence… he could feel her pain… her sorrow… her fear. His heart felt ripped in two from the sheer force of it.

"Why…" she cried softly, "Why would you do that? Why wouldn't you stay with me? Why didn't you even try???"

He closed his eyes and held her closer. He tried to shush her… tried to make the requisite comforting noises, but his own choking sobs made speech impossible. So he rocked her, as the first pink of dawn sparked the horizon.


	8. I'll Never Forget

Angel woke and opened his eyes. He realized, sadly, that Buffy was gone, no longer held safely in his arms. He rose and dressed quickly, despite the sorrow that hung over him like a dead weight, making each movement a painful effort.

He could feel her, so he knew she hadn't gone far.

The sun had long since set. It appeared that they had cried themselves to sleep, and an entire day had passed. He collected himself as best he could, and climbed down the stairs.

Buffy sat curled up on the couch, sipping a cup of tea, and staring into the fire she had built.

//Maybe some princesses do build fires.//

How he was dreading this… and anticipating it, all at once. He had carried the memory of their day together alone for so long… To be able to share it with her at last seemed a greater gift than any he deserved.

The fact that she was still there told him what he needed to know about how she felt about him now. At least, he hoped it did.

Angel took a seat in the chair to the side of the couch where she sat.

"There's coffee," she said, without looking at him.

He nodded. "Thanks," he said, but didn't move.

They both stared into the fire. After a few moments, Buffy took a deep, weary breath, and Angel turned to look at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She turned to look at him, and it was as though she were seeing him for the first time in three glorious dimensions. She recalled, with perfect clarity, the warm glow of life on his skin… his brilliant, happy smile… the way his eyes closed and the way his skin flushed when they made love…

Buffy had never been as happy, or as heartbroken, before in her life. And considering all the two of them had been through -- had put one another through -- that was saying something.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

He nodded. Angel often felt the same way, when he recalled that day… the taste of chocolate, the sound of happy sighs… the way her lips had felt, the first time he kissed her again after so long apart. Some part of him wanted to kiss her now, and take all of her pain and confusion away… Maybe chase away his own, in the process.

He looked back into the fire. Maybe, if he reached out with his own pain… his own memories…

"When the Oracles told me I was released from my duty and my curse, it was like…" Angel hesitated, "I hadn't ever even wished to be mortal again, it was so far out of the realm of possibility. And yet, there it was. And suddenly, nothing made sense anymore. For a moment, I was completely set adrift -- like I was drowning in a sea of endless possibilities, and I had forgotten how to swim 250 years ago…"

Buffy stared at him.

"And then, Doyle said to me, 'Then the question is, what do you want?' It was like an epiphany… the one sure thing that I knew, with every heartbeat, that I wanted," he turned to look at her again, and thrilled to find that she was listening quietly, without a sad tear in her eye. He didn't feel like crying, either. This was different. He looked deeply into her eyes, "You are the only thing that has ever been real to me… that has ever been constant and solid in my whole life. You are the only thing I know for sure. And when I found you, walking by the pier? I didn't think before I moved… I couldn't do anything but want you."

Buffy blinked. "But we almost didn't…" she said.

"Yeah, I know. As soon as I started thinking again, all the old fears and questions came rushing back. I sat there across the table from you, like a man starving, and you were the most delicious, beautiful nourishment… But I was terrified to reach out and touch you. I couldn't… I can't, ever, put you in danger again the way I did before," he said.

"I touched you…I was going to do the mature thing, and walk away… but… when I touched you…" Buffy began.

"It was like the sky exploded," Angel finished for her.

They stared at one another for a long time. They had both been there, together. They both remembered. They both felt the same joy and pain at the memory…

Buffy realized that this, this utter certainty was what she had been looking for… Not the minute details that she had demanded. She wanted to remember what it felt like to love him, on any of the days that they had spent together.

She set her cup on the table and hauled herself off the couch. Slowly, never taking her eyes from his, she crossed the short distance between them, and stood before him, looking down.

He held his breath, waiting…

"Do you think I would totally squash you if I sat on your lap?" She asked.

Angel grinned at her, "I think I can probably handle it," he said.

She eased her weight onto him, and swung her legs over the side of the chair, leaning her head on his strong shoulder. He smelled different, when he was alive… warm, like vanilla and spice. But she found, to her surprise, that his old, familiar smell, the cool ivory clean of his dead skin, was almost more comforting.

He put his arms around her and held her close, listening to the sound of two strong heartbeats filling his head.

"I'm glad I didn't remember, until now, "she told him, "That pain… knowing how we were pulled apart again… how we'd been so close to having everything we ever dreamed of together? I couldn't have handled it, then. It would have killed me. And I would have talked myself into hating you for making me give that up."

He pulled away to look into her face, "And now?" he asked.

She kissed him softly, then looked back into his eyes again, "Now, I understand. I know how much you love me… how much you've given up for me. I understand all of it… why you left, everything. Even Riley," she said, and leaned back down to his shoulder.

"Riley? What do you mean?" He asked.

She snuggled closer to him. "I know you asked him to take care of me. When you guys went after the Kasala. You were going to leave me again, to make it easier for he and I to be together," she said quietly.

"Wait a minute. What makes you think I would…"

She looked at him sharply, "I know you, Angel," she said simply, "I remember, when we were making love… all of the things you whispered to me… all of the promises you made…"

"Pillow talk." He grinned evilly.

Buffy whacked his arm. His face grew serious once again.

"I meant every word. I still do… I always will," he said.

She read his eyes like her favorite book… saw once again that there was truth to be found in them.

"I love you, Angel. I want to be with you, always. No matter what," she said," And I'm not going to let you try to get away, ever again."

He frowned a little, "It's going to be hard, Buffy. Things still haven't changed. Whatever we shared that day…" he hesitated for a moment, "We can't be together… like that… again."

"I know," she said, "And I don't care. We'll find a way around our problems. Remember, you promised we could make another day, just like that one."

Angel relaxed a little. He loved the feeling of her warm body in his arms… the daffodil smell of her hair, and her bulging belly pressed up against his chest. He honestly didn't think he could let her go again, if he tried.

"I did, didn't I?" he said, "And I always try to keep my promises."

Buffy sat up once more, "So, you'll stay? I mean, you'll try?"

He reached up and brushed her rosy cheek, "With everything I have," he said, and drew her in for another soft kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buffy stared at her neck in the mirror.

"Will this scar ever go away?" She asked her reflection. Or rather, the person whose reflection wasn't there.

Angel bent down and kissed the tough flesh. "No," he said, and looked up at her in the mirror.

Her cheek lay comfortably against absolutely nothing.

"Never?" she asked again, "I mean, I am the Slayer. Won't it heal, eventually?"

He kissed the top of her head and stood back up, rubbing her shoulders gently.

"No. It will never heal," he said.

"Oh," Buffy said, sighing and relaxing under his attentions, "Why not?"

"You ask too many questions. Lie down, and I'll rub your back."

Buffy obeyed and laid as close to flat on her stomach as she could, in her 'swallowed-a-beach-ball' condition. He laid down beside her and slowly kneaded her lower back. She let his cool, strong fingers work into her exhausted body, and sighed deeply.

"Why won't it heal?" she asked again, "The Master's bite did."

Angel stopped and pulled away, and Buffy rolled over to follow until they were face to face. But he was looking up at the ceiling.

"Angel…"

He looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before… some odd combination of pride and shame…

He gulped, "It's… uh… a mark," he said haltingly.

"A what?" she asked, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

Angel finally looked her straight in the eye, "I marked you. It's a… mating thing."

"A mating thing?" she asked, "Are you saying you branded me? Like... a Demon letterman's jacket or something?"

"More or less. Theoretically, no other vampire can bite you gain, once you're marked."

"Are you kidding?"

He shook his head, "It wasn't… feeding, exactly… and… I didn't turn you… but you survived… so, the scar."

Buffy looked at him, "It's like, a territorial thing?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded again.

"I can't believe you did that…" she mumbled.

Angel bowed his head.

"That is so romantic!" Buffy squealed, and threw her arms around him.

He laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Katherine," he suggested.

Buffy shook her head, "Hepburn."

"Jennifer."

"Not a good idea. And, Aniston."

"Margaret."

"Thatcher? Cho?"

"Sarah."

"Gilbert? Maclachlan?"

"Okay… so I'm getting that one of the rules is, no famous people can have this name," he said, "and no one that we know that's dead."

"Right," she agreed.

"Try boys again?" he said, flipping to the back of the notebook, and the page marked "Boys".

"Henry," he suggested.

"No WAY!" Buffy said.

"That's your father's name," he objected.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but Henry?"

He sighed, "Michael."

"Jackson. Jordan."

"David."

"Hasselhoff."

Angel sighed, frustrated. "Forget it. I give up," he snapped, and tossed the book on his nightstand.

"Alexander?" She ventured.

Angel turned off the light.

"Absolutely NOT," he told her.

"William?" she said. "I mean, that was your name."

"Also -- The Bloody?" he mocked.

"Fine. Maybe we'll just pick a name out of a hat," she snapped, and turned over.

Angel looked at the back of her head for a moment, then scooted toward her, and began nuzzling her neck.

"Spot?" he said, giving her ear a nip.

Buffy laughed. "Spot it is."


	9. Together

Angel scooted closer to her, using his hands to support her lower back the way she'd shown him, and helped her sit up further.

"Like that?" he asked.

"Yup, that's it," Buffy approved, and feigned a good, hard push.

Angel mimicked the puffing of her cheeks, blowing the hair on the back of her head around with the little bursts of air he forced from his lungs.

"See? You've got it," she encouraged him, and leaned back after she relaxed.

Angel froze a little at the feeling of her rear pressed against him. The way her curves melded so perfectly with his body shocked him enough that he completely forgot to breathe.

Without thinking, he slid his hands slowly over the front of her body… over the enormous curve of her belly and up over her swelling breasts.

Buffy gasped and leaned harder against him, reaching up with her hand to stroke his hair as he caressed her. Angel kissed the side of her neck, still softly touching her, until she threw her head back and moaned with pleasure. Angel turned her around and pulled her to him, devouring her lips with his own.

This was the line they tempted, every day. A challenge they gave themselves, to touch like this… to go so far and no farther. There was so much they didn't understand about his curse… Where was the line they couldn't cross? And how could they learn the limits without putting themselves, plus everyone else in the world, in danger?

Angel simply didn't know, and that made moments like this, moments when he wanted Buffy so much he could hardly bear it, so dangerous.

He abruptly cut off the kiss.

Buffy sighed. This was familiar territory, now. It was hard to sleep in the same bed… to touch him or kiss him, or lay in his arms, without remembering what it felt like to go farther, and wanting to go there once again.

It was frustrating in a way similar to the days before she lost her virginity to him -- that "everything but" barrier that no one dared to cross out of fear. But now the fear was not of the unknown, but of the certainty that they did know what would happen, after.

Their passion had almost destroyed the world, once…

They never talked about it. Before now… before her trip to see the Oracles and the reclaimed memories of The Day That Wasn't, things had been too confusing, too chaotic, to make lovemaking an issue. But now, they shared the same space every day and every night… now they were struggling to rebuild their relationship in order to build a family. Now they were growing closer, emotionally, than they had ever been, preparing for the arrival of their child. The boundaries of their relationship would need to be explicitly redrawn.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" he said, as he always did, "I didn't mean…"

Buffy looked up at him, "No. Please don't be sorry. I wanted you to."

Angel sighed. This had been a big part of the reason he had left her in the first place -- because his desire for her was like a wild thing with a mind of its own, over which he had little control when she was near.

"We need to do something about this," he said.

Buffy leaned closer to him once again. Her breathing was still ragged, and she could feel her wanting like a searing heat that consumed every inch of her… especially below her ample waist.

"We do," she agreed breathlessly, "But what?"

Angel got up off the floor and gave her a hand up. When they were face to face once again, he fount that looking into her lust-flushed face gave him a pain that was almost physical.

"I don't know," he said, "But… there's got to be something… something we haven't considered. A spell, maybe? I don't know..." he collapsed on the couch, frustrated.

Buffy stood where she was, and just looked at him. He was so beautiful… the broad angle of his shoulders, his hard chest, his muscular thighs…

//Okay, Summers… get a hold of yourself.//

"I think maybe I feel a good, old-fashioned research party coming on," she said.

Angel looked up at her, "You haven't even told them we've moved in together yet."

Buffy frowned, "No… not… technically…"

" 'Not technically'? Buffy…"

"You don't understand! I mean, they won't understand! They've always been afraid of the two of us together, and I don't know that that's changed all that much, now!"

Angel reached up and took her hand, pulling her down on the couch with him.

"They're afraid for a good reason, Buffy."

She thought of the hot moment they'd just shared.

"Yeah," she said.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close.

"We'll tell them together. I know they'll understand, and be more than willing to help. We can work this out, Buffy. We'll find a way, together," he promised.

Buffy shook her head, "No. I'm the one that's been putting it off, I'll be the one to tell them," she pulled back and looked into his eyes, "You shouldn't have to go through that."

Angel smiled, "No? I think I do have to. That's my job, right? I owe you… and all of them, at least that."

Buffy returned his smile, and leaned comfortably back into his embrace. Despite what she knew was coming, it still felt good to be facing things together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She took a deep breath, watching the faces of her closest friends, all gathered in Giles' living room. She felt like some odd college professor, lecturing an even odder classroom of people.

Angel sat beside where she stood, and studied the expressions of everyone in the room. He could practically predict, word-for-word, gesture-for-gesture, how each of them would react: Giles, Wesley, Xander, Willow… Even Anya, who he imagined would probably be less than interested. He wasn't certain why she was there at all, when the plan had been for Core Gang -- central research squad, only. Without Cordelia, who still had a problem with keeping a level head and a quiet mouth.

"Angel and I have decided to give our relationship another chance," she said, barreling through her planned speech before she lost her nerve, "I've moved into the mansion, and the baby and I will be living there, after…"

She didn't even make it through the sentence before Xander was out of his seat.

"Are you KIDDING?" He glanced at Angel, then Buffy, then the other faces in the room, "You are kidding, right?"

Buffy blinked. She had been preparing for a less-than-favorable reaction, but nothing quite like this.

Everyone stared at Xander as he advanced on Angel and Buffy.

"You guys are going to LIVE together? Like, sleep in the same BED?" he shrieked. He was remembering the last time Buffy and Angel shared a bed. He still had problems with his back from his little Angelus-sponsored Valentine's Day flight from Buffy's bedroom window. Plus… all the rest… Miss Calendar. Xander didn't know what he thought the two of them would do… he knew they were spending a lot of time together, but this?

"I know this is kind-of a surprise," Buffy tried to interject.

" 'KIND-OF A SURPRISE?!?' " Xander shouted, "I'd say it's more like 'kind-of-a-portent-of-impending-doom'! Do you two really think you can spend all your time in the same space and not get funky? DO YOU? I'm thinking NO!"

Buffy was frozen in place, shaking, frightened tears beginning to spill from her eyes. Xander stood towering over her, glaring down, as the others looked on in varying degrees of shock.

"Are you STUPID, Buffy? WHAT IS GOING ON IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD??!!??" He shouted, poking her chest with his finger.

Angel was up in a heartbeat and moved between them, placing a hand flat against Xander's chest, "Back off," he said simply, applying little pressure to encourage the boy to move away.

Xander didn't retreat, but stood, glowering up at the vampire.

"You! What happened to your whole 'Noble Sacrifice' routine, huh? I bet you talked her into this!"

Angel's eyes blazed with fury and he scowled fiercely at the boy.

"Xander…" Willow objected.

He spun to look at her. Had all of them lost their minds?

"What is the matter with you people? Have you all forgotten why their "love" is "forbidden" in the FIRST PLACE????" He turned his eyes on Giles, "What about Miss Calendar? What about what happened to her? And what about Buffy? And the baby? I can't… this is…" he spluttered.

Willow got up and put her hand on Xander's shoulder.

"Xander, come on. You're overreacting," she said, "What did you think they would do?"

"I didn't think they'd go totally INSANE AND PUT ALL OF US IN MORTAL DANGER, THAT'S FOR SURE!" he screeched, and shook her off.

"That's not fair…" Buffy objected weakly.

Xander turned back to her once more, "What's not fair is you taking all of our lives in your own hands so you can cuddle up with your old boyfriend!"

Angel growled, deep in his throat, as he felt Buffy jump beside him at Xander's harsh words.

//I'll kill him. I'll rip him to shreds.//

Giles finally stepped in.

"ENOUGH!" he shouted, surprising everyone, including Angel, by losing his cool, "SIT!" he barked at Xander. Everyone, including Buffy, sat. Giles looked slowly from face to face.

"This is ridiculous," he said calmly, "There is no need for anyone to lose their temper, here," He lay a withering glance on Xander, who only sat, scowling. He then turned back to look at Buffy and Angel before he took his seat once again, "Are you certain this is wise, Buffy?" he asked her.

Angel put his arm around Buffy protectively, and held her close to him.

She couldn't answer… couldn't move… couldn't do anything but cry under the disapproving gazes of the others.

Angel took a deep breath, "We've thought about this… talked about it at length. We know all of the implications," he said, "I don't want to sound melodramatic, but, the fact is, Buffy and I belong together. We always have. It's taken this past year apart… the day I was human… the baby… to prove to us how true that fact is," he turned a hateful eye to Xander, "The only unwise thing we've done is to waste so much time… not try harder to understand the true nature of my curse, and what we can do to break it."

Silence settled over the room. Buffy turned grateful, teary eyes on him and smiled. He gave her another supportive squeeze.

Filled with new strength at her lover's words, she turned to face the others once again, "We didn't come here to ask for your permission, or even your approval," she said firmly, then, her voice softening again, "We came here to ask for your help."

Wesley sat forward in his chair, wondering how far away he would have to be to not hear Cordelia screaming when she received all this news.

"What do you require of us?" he asked them.

Buffy looked at him. To her, Wesley was almost a stranger. But she knew Angel considered him a friend -- trusted the ex-Watcher enough to keep him at his back. The person she trusted most in the world trusted him, and that was enough to erase her own doubts about his intentions.

"We want to find a way to bind Angel's soul," she told him, then looked around the small, tense circle once again, "If there's a spell to return it, there's got to be a way to keep it, right?" At the last part, Buffy looked at Willow.

"I… I don't know…" Willow answered honestly, "I mean… maybe… there could be…"

Wesley stared at Angel, "I wish we had thought of this a long time ago," he said to his friend.

Everyone else in the room was thinking more or less the same thing.

Except Xander, who wondered how long it would be before they all made Angelus a nice, nutritious meal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He immediately knew someone was following him the minute he left Giles' front porch.

//Maybe not such a good idea to throw a tantrum and stomp out… alone…//

Xander picked up his pace, trying not to show the fear that threatened to consume him. If he ran, and that was a vampire behind him, he was dead. He fiddled with the large wooden cross and stake he had tucked in his coat pocket.

//Always pays to be prepared…//

He wasn't sure if that little tidbit came from his two weeks as a Boy Scout, or his four years living in Buffy's universe.

He focused his hearing, but there seemed to be nothing to hear. Another sign that it must be a vampire. His heart was pounding, and dread began to clutch at his chest.

//Oh, yeah… that's fight or flight…//

Five years ago, Xander would have turned and run for his life, screaming like a girl. He gripped the stake tightly and prepared for a sharp, pre-emptive 180° .

//Five years ago, I would have already been today's special, because I never would have known it was there.//

He spun, his arm raised, and prepared to charge.

Angel grabbed him easily by the wrist and held tight, staring down at him, his face expressionless.

"JESUS!" Xander exploded, yanking his arm away. He shook off his fright, stuck the stake back in his pocket, and tried to ignore the adrenaline pumping through him, "What are you doing? I could have dusted you!"

Angel regarded him evenly, "You have a problem with me, don't you, Xander?"

Xander wasn't sure how to react, considering he always assumed it was fairly obvious how he felt about Buffy's on-again, off-again vampire pet. Of course he had a problem with him. Rather a lot of them, actually.

Angel didn't give him a chance to answer, "I know that you understand the way I feel about Buffy. And I've always known how much you care about her. I know that she and I together is… complicated. But I swear to you, I would never put any of you… especially Buffy… especially our child, in danger. We knew full well what we were doing when we made this decision, Xander. All we want is a chance. Can't you give us that? Can't you let Buffy have what she really wants, this once?"

Half of Xander was impressed by Angel's heartfelt speech, and deeply ashamed at the unfair, irrational way he'd reacted to their announcement. The other half wanted, more than anything, to puke. He decided to go the completely psychotic route, and finally speak his mind, once and for all.

"You're not good for her. You've never done anything but make her unhappy. And I don't like to see Buffy unhappy," he said.

Angel seemed to stand up a little straighter, as if Xander had physically challenged him.

"I see. Well, that's not a completely unfair estimation, I guess," he admitted. Not like it wasn't something he'd thought a million times before about himself.

Xander frowned. He'd been expecting… well, violence, frankly -- dire, bodily harm. He shrugged.

"I know you want to protect her… and the others," Angel went on, "Don't think that I don't appreciate that need. But, it's not your job. It's mine. It always has been." After a moment, he stepped closer to Xander, letting his calm façade slip a little and let the demon speak of his anger.

"That's always pissed you off, hasn't it, Harris? Let me tell you something. If you ever attack Buffy like that again, or make her cry, or hurt her in any way, I'm going to give some serious reconsideration to carnivorism. I've had it with your attitude. And I'm tired of standing back while you abuse Buffy because you don't like me. If you want to punish someone, try picking the right someone…"

Xander hauled off and punched Angel square in the jaw, sending the unprepared vampire crashing to the grass. He stood above him, his fist cocked for another swing.

//I have the stake. I have the stake in my pocket. No one would ever know…//

Angel sat and stared up at him, silent and patient.

Xander blinked.

"Are you done?" Angel asked him, wiping his bloody lip with the back of his hand, and then absently licking it off.

Xander winced, "That's so… gross."

"So, are you? Because I'm not going to bother to get up if you're just going to knock me back down again," he grumbled.

Xander reached down and gave the vampire a hand up.

"Nice shot," Angel told him, wiggling his sore jaw.

Xander brightened noticeably, "Oh yeah? Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, it hurt," Angel assured him.

"Cool," Xander grinned, nodding, "You goaded me into it."

"Yeah, I did."

"Some anger therapy or something?"

"Something like that…"

"You could have just done that old Zen master thing… beat me over the head with a stick…"

"I could've just broken your neck."

"Oh, right. Good point."

Buffy smiled to herself and ducked back behind the brush as the two men walked away. She slung her crossbow back over her shoulder, glad she hadn't had to shoot either of them.

Imagine… a respectful truce achieved through brute violence.

Men.


	10. Nothing a Pickle and a Cup of Cocoa Won't Fix

Angel sat heavily on the beanbag chair in Xander's basement.

"Should we be… doing something?" Xander whined, looking around at Oz, Angel, Wesley, and Giles, "Drinking? Strippers?"

"It's not a bachelor party, Xander," Giles said.

"But the girls get to squeal and look at lingerie and stuff…" he insisted, "We should get something…"

"I really just want to get back into my house…" Angel mumbled.

"Don't count on that happening anytime soon. Cordelia made two bowls of dip," Wesley lamented half-heartedly. But everyone knew that what he was really saying was 'Cordelia is my girlfriend, and that's how I know she made so much dip.'

All the men present held their dip comments. And a couple of them had some good ones.

"Angel, have you been checking the gifts?" Giles asked.

He nodded, "Willow cooked up a talisman for Buffy to wear that glows when it's around evil or demonic energy. So that's covered."

Everyone gave him a knowing look.

"Okay," he admitted, "Every package that I get a hold of before Buffy does gets opened."

Everyone nodded, at that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Wesley wasn't far off in his estimation. Buffy didn't call for them to come back until well after ten.

She was waiting for Angel when he returned. The living room was a disaster area, as though a cyclone had hit a large children's department store, and deposited the goods in his home.

"Where are we going to put all this stuff?" she asked, "And now that I think bout it, where are we going to put the baby? This place is big, but not good in the individual rooms department… and it's too drafty."

Angel sat beside her on the couch, after he had dug himself out a spot.

"We'll manage," he said, and leaned over to kiss her.

After the little smack, Buffy gave him a look, "You know, there's not much time left. I'm due in less than two months."

He smiled at her. "I know. I've been paying attention."

"There are a lot of things we have to decide, Angel…"

"I thought we already decided on Spot?" he joked, nuzzling her neck.

Buffy pushed him away, "I'm serious! I'm going to have a baby in seven weeks! We have to decide a lot more than just a name… like where will I have the baby, and how, and who will be there…"

Angel stared at her, confused, "Don't… people have babies in… hospitals? With… doctors?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, they do. But I want you to be there, and Willow… Plus, I'm not so crazy about hospitals to begin with, as you well know."

"So you don't want the hospital. Okay." Women had always given birth at home, in his day, and that was long before anti-bacterial soap, so… "Hey, wait. Did you say you want me to be there?"

She scowled at him, "Of course! Don't you want to be?"

"I… I mean, I don't know. I guess I never… thought about it," he said, sitting up and leaning his forearms on his knees, "They… do that now? Let the men in?"

Buffy tried not to laugh, "You're kidding, right? You have to be there when the baby's born!" Not having Angel beside her was so foreign an idea to her, she hadn't even considered it as a possibility.

"I… guess," he said, suddenly confused once again, "It's just that, in my day… men weren't only not allowed in the birthing room, they were sent from the house. The women said we were only in the way…"

Buffy relaxed a little, and smiled, "Silly. In your day, men probably were in the way. Now, fathers get involved in the childbirth process all the time…"

He looked at her shyly, "They do? But… what do I know about childbirth?"

Buffy gently brushed his cheek with her fingertips, "You've been reading… you've been practicing Lamaze with me… you know as much as I do."

He looked quizzically into her eyes, "You really want me to be there?"

She smiled and kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose, "Of course. Who else can I verbally abuse in the throes of labor pains?"

Angel blanched visibly.

"I'm kidding," she said, and took him into her arms. It wasn't easy anymore, as big as she was getting, "I want you to be there, to see our child born. I bet it'll give you a whole new perspective on things."

Angel held her close, turning the idea over in his mind, "I'll bet you're right," he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He came downstairs moments after the sun had set, to find Buffy sitting on the couch, crying loudly, pointing the remote at the TV as if she were trying to make the thing disappear.

Angel didn't rush to her… he'd gotten used to this, in the past few months. Buffy's miraculous pregnancy came complete with Slayer-strength mood swings. Anything could set her off: seeing a spider could send her into screaming hysterics; lack of cookie dough fudge mint chip in the freezer could put the china in danger from a fit of rage; the pizza guy coming in 20 minutes instead of a half an hour sent her reeling off, covered in grease and singing Disney tunes.

He did his best to be supportive of her. But more often than not, he got a piece of pottery or a magazine upside his head for his trouble. Sometimes, he felt like it bordered on abuse… he only hoped it would disappear once the baby was born.

He moved cautiously to the couch and sat beside her.

"Hey… what's wrong?" he asked gently, reaching for her hand.

Buffy looked morosely at him, "This. Have you ever seen this?" she sniffled.

Angel looked at the now-dark TV screen, "What?"

"The Sixth Sense." She said, as sobs overtook her once again.

Angel scrunched his brow, "Isn't that a horror movie?" he asked, bewildered.

"I-it's s-so s-s-SAD!" Buffy bawled, "He… he's dead! Th-through the WHOLE THING! And… and… he doesn't even KNOW it!!!!" She collapsed into his arms, blubbering into his chest.

"Shhhh… it's okay. It's just a movie," he held her tightly as her swelling belly would allow, softly brushing her hair with his hand. After a few moments, he gently pulled her away, "Hey, I've got an idea," he said, smiling at her.

"Wh-wh-what?" she sniffled, pouting mightily.

"I got some pickles yesterday… the big spicy dill ones… from the deli," he tempted.

Buffy's face brightened noticeably, "And cocoa?"

"Mmhm," he said.

"With little marshmallows?" she added hopefully.

"Of course. Swiss Miss," he said.

Buffy grabbed him in a crushing hug. Angel hugged her back, then pulled away, got up, and helped her haul herself off the couch. They walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen, where he helped her into a chair and turned to grab two mugs out of the cupboard.

"There's nothing a pickle and a cup of cocoa can't fix," Buffy said, smiling again as if nothing ever happened.

Angel, even with his limited taste buds, couldn't help the lurching sensation in his stomach. Buffy was a stereotypical pregnant woman, craving the oddest things at the oddest times, sometimes sending him scrambling through the sewers in the middle of the day for Swiss cheese & onion sandwiches on pumpernickel from the kosher deli on Broad Street…

He didn't mind. Buffy could ask him for the still-beating heart of a Rakchok Flesh-Eater, and he would hunt one down, drag it home, and rip the organ out for her, without hesitation. He would do anything for the mother of his child… the woman he loved.

He sat the plate with the enormous pickle on it before her, and poured the cocoa.

"Are you up for a drive?" he asked, sitting down across from her and placing the two mugs on the table.

Buffy took a monstrous bite out of the pickle, slurping the juice noisily, and washing it down with giant gulps from her mug. Angel winced at the display, "Mm. Sure," she said.

"Good. Finish that, and then we'll go cruising," he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even on the Hellmouth, there was nothing like a summer night drive in a convertible to sooth the soul. Buffy took great, joyful breaths of the warm air as they drove the length of Route 4 toward the edge of town.

This area wasn't completely unfamiliar territory, but these sleepy little suburbs were neither heavy demon stomping grounds, nor populated by any business to speak of, so she had spent little time there.

"Where are we going?" She asked Angel dreamily, eyeing the large family homes as the flew past.

"You'll see," he said with a glint in his eye, "I want to show you something."

Buffy glanced at him. What could he be planning?

A few turns later, they pulled down a secluded cu-de-sac, and parked in front of a large white Victorian with deep green shutters. It was an absolute dream of an abode… something out of an upper-middle class fairy tale, with sprawling gardens and finely trimmed hedges, giant windows on all sides. A swing hung on one end of the full wrap-around porch, and the whole thing was surrounded by a newly whitewashed picket fence.

Angel got out of the car and went around to Buffy's side, giving her a hand out.

She gaped up at the beautiful house, "Wow. It's amazing…" she said.

Angel fairly beamed, "I thought you'd like it," he said.

Buffy spun around to stare at him. He was leaning casually against a realtor's sign, with a prominently displayed "SOLD" tag on top.

"What…" she said, barely able to find her voice.

Angel grinned. He reached into his coat pocket and held up a pair of keys on a gold keyring shaped like a "B".

"It's yours," he said, holding them out to her.

"You…" Buffy stuttered as she shuffled slowly back to him, "You bought this? For me? For us?

Angel smiled warmly at her, "I figured… if we're going to make a home together… we should probably have a house. One that's not already filled with memories. One where we can start from scratch."

Buffy sighed happily, staring up at him for a moment, then nearly knocked him flat as she jumped into his arms, squealing her thanks as she smothered him with kisses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took the final two weeks of Buffy's pregnancy to arrange everything… to move all of their things into the new house, to hang the heavy velvet curtains in the windows, arrange the nursery, and create a birthing plan that would work.

With only days before her due date, Buffy and Angel still hadn't agreed on a name.

"I think you worry too much," Angel kept telling her, "Maybe the baby will just… tell us his name."

Buffy looked at him strangely.

He sighed, "I mean… when the baby is born, maybe a name will just come to us. Really, it's your job to name him, anyway."

"Is that another 'Ancient Celtic' thing?" She teased.

He fake-snarled at her, "You've got your traditions, which require me to watch you screaming for who knows how long, and I've got mine, which require you to wrack your brains for a name. It only seems fair."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at him.

This afternoon, Buffy had resorted to borrowing dozens of Giles' and Willow's mystical books, searching for some name option they hadn't already considered, when Cordelia came out of the kitchen, covered head to toe in cream colored paint, and wielding a paint gun.

"Oh, that's great," she snapped, "No. That's okay… you just go ahead and read while the rest of us PAINT YOUR HOUSE!!!"

Buffy didn't bother to look up at her, "Fumes," she said.

Cordy sneered at her, and tossed her paint back through the kitchen door. She began to sit on the floor.

"Newspaper!" Buffy reminded her, still not looking up.

Cordelia sighed and grabbed some from the top of the pile, dropped it to the floor, and plopped down on it.

"What do you think about Ariadne?" Buffy asked her.

"You mean, as a name?" She asked incredulously.

Buffy finally looked up at her, and laughed at the state she was in. Cordy continued to scowl at her.

"Yes, as a name," she said.

"Besides, 'Ew!', you mean?"

"Never mind…" Buffy sighed.

Cordy looked down at her paint-covered hands, "You know, if it was a boy, you could name it Doyle…" she said softly.

"No dead people," Buffy said absently, then immediately looked up, realizing what she'd said, "Oh, Cordy… I'm sorry… I didn't…"

Cordelia's face showed little of the hurt she felt, "No, it's okay. Forget it. It's a dumb name anyway."

Buffy looked compassionately at her… friend, "It's a nice Irish name… maybe we will."

Cordelia smiled, "I think Angel would like it," she said.

Buffy returned the smile, "I bet he would, too. And I would. Doyle gave me… a lot, and he never even knew me," she said.

Cordy nodded, "He was like that," she said.

The two women sat in quiet camaraderie for a few moments.

"So, when are you and Angel going to tie the knot?" Cordelia asked.

Buffy stared at her, "What?"

"Are you and Angel going to get married before, or after the baby's born? I mean, if it's before, well, you're cutting it kind of close…"

"We… we're not…" Buffy said.

Cordelia cocked her head, "Why not?"

Buffy's mind spun with the concept. She hadn't thought about marriage for more than a brief second during her whole pregnancy. Oh, boy… thinking about that just seemed to stir up reminders of all the difficulties she and Angel faced that they had been trying to avoid for the past few months…

"We… can't," she finally answered.

"I say again: Why… not?" Cordy repeated.

Buffy blinked, "I don't know… I mean, we haven't talked about it."

"You're kidding, right? Mr. 18th Century Catholic Irish Man hasn't tried to make an honest woman out of you yet?"

"No…"

"I find that very hard to believe," Cordy said, then jumped up, leaving Buffy still staring at her, "Well, break's over. I have to finish your house, before your baby's born…" she said, and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Angel slid into bed beside her, near dawn, Buffy was still wide awake.

"Hi," she said, rolling over to look at him.

He smiled warmly, and touched her cheek, "Hi."

She leaned her face over and kissed him slowly.

"How was patrol?" She asked when she pulled away.

"Quiet. Too quiet," he said, "I don't like it. It's like the supernatural world is holding its breath… waiting for something…"

"Cordelia thinks we should get married," she interrupted.

Angel didn't miss a beat, "We should," he said, looking at her, "It would be the right thing to do."

"Why haven't you asked me, then?"

Angel sighed. He'd thought about it… almost constantly, in fact, since they'd decided to give their relationship another try. There was nothing he would be more proud to do than call Buffy his wife.

"We can't," he said.

Buffy leaned up on her elbow, and looked into his eyes, which were shadowed by something she couldn't readily identify, "Why not?"

Angel looked at her, "Which do you want first, the practical, the philosophical, or the religious reasons?"

"I really don't care," she said, "They'd just better be good."

Angel sat up, and Buffy did the same.

He turned and faced her fully, "For one," he began, "I don't exist. I'm not a person, with a legal or religious existence. I'm dead. Dead people can't get married."

Buffy frowned at him, without comment.

"Second… marriage has certain… rules. At least, where I come from. And one of them is…" he looked away shyly, "That the couple share a conjugal bed. We can't do that."

She remained silent.

"I'm a demon, Buffy. You're a human being. It would be an insult to the institution," he said.

"That's the stupidest think I've ever heard," she snapped, "You're not a demon. You're a soul that happens to share a body with a demon. There's a big difference. I may not be religious, but even I know that it's the soul that counts."

Angel looked at her for a long time, then reached out to touch her face once again, "Buffy… you know how much I love you. And I want us to try our damnedest to make this work… to build a family together. And I have every intention of remaining by your side until the day you die… But… we can't get married. It just wouldn't be right."

Buffy looked deeply into his eyes, which were quickly filling with tears. Why was he so damned stubborn about his unfair views himself? They were already tied together in every other way that counted… She felt bad for brining the subject up at all… for hurting him.

"It doesn't matter," she said, "Not really… as long as we're together…"

He smiled weakly, fully aware that she was lying to make him feel better. He didn't, of course…

"No, it doesn't," he lied back, and softly kissed her, "You are already my wife, in my soul…" That part was the truth.

Buffy sighed and leaned into his embrace.


	11. Beware the Gifts...

Anya held up the finger sandwich for Xander's inspection.

"What's this, again?" she asked.

He looked at it, "Umm...Pate?"

Anya continued to look at him.

"Goose liver," he explained.

Anya dropped the sandwich back on to the plate as if it had bitten her.

"You people are really gross sometimes," she said, and wandered away into the crowd.

Xander shrugged, and ate her abandoned sandwich.

She approached Angel, who chatted with Willow on the far side of the room. The ex-demon looked at her with little interest, and then up at the target of her journey.

"Angel… don't you have any… Xander food? Cookies? Potato Chips? Artificially flavored fruit products?"

Angel turned and looked at her. Such a pretty young woman… and so hopelessly socially inept.

"There's probably ice cream," he told her.

Anya gave him a genuine smile and dashed off to the kitchen, handing him her empty plate as she left.

Without warning, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Trying not to be too obvious, he slowly scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Buffy was right where she had been for the past hour, discussing the sad state of maternity fashion with Cordelia. No one else had entered or left the party, that he could see. And yet, Angel was certain that he felt a distinct negative presence in the room.

"Angel, are you okay?" Willow asked him, "You look kind of… freaky."

He shook his head, but the sensation of wrong-ness didn't dissipate, "I just had a chill," he lied.

Willow looked at him, "Angel, you don't get cold."

"I don't," he admitted, set the dish down, and headed for the back door. Willow followed close on his heels, and gasped when she saw the back door hanging wide open to the night.

"Oh, no," she said, and walked to stand by him. He held a plainly wrapped package in his hands, "Beware west winds bearing gifts…" she said absently.

Angel looked sharply at her, "Why would you say that?" he asked.

Willow shrugged, and looked at him as if she had only just entered the conversation.

"I don't know. I think I heard it in a dream," she told him.

Angel frowned. The two of them looked out at the last lick of sunset as it disappeared in the West, and then down at the package in his hands.

"Get Giles and Wesley. Get them now. Tell them to meet me in the basement," he ordered her.

"What? But why…"

"Now," He said firmly.

Willow ran off, and Angel made a beeline for the office in the basement -- the lead-lined, soundproof office where he conducted some of his more magickal business. He hurried into the lab room and set the brown box on the table. A moment later, he heard the others shuffle in and seal the door behind them. Willow spoke the requisite binding charm, and she, Giles, and Wesley came to join Angel.

They all stared down at the plain brown box.

"What do you suppose it is?" Wesley whispered. He was terribly frightened that any loud noise might set it off.

Angel shook his head, "I don't know. It was just sitting inside the back door. I can't tell what it is. It has no odor."

Giles looked at him, shocked, "What do you mean, no odor?"

"I mean… it smells like nothing. Like there's nothing in it," he said.

"There's a charm on it," Willow said, "I can see it. But it's not harmful… it's just masking what's inside."

"Which might be harmful," Wesley added.

"You guys stand back," Angel said, waving them out of the lab.

"Why?" Wesley objected as they slowly backed out.

"I'm going to open it," Angel said, and closed the door in front of them.

They stood and watched through the windows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Angel wasted no time rethinking his decision. He grabbed the box, and tore off the brown wrapper. Underneath, he found a plain, brown cardboard box with a symbol drawn in black magic marker on each side of it.

//The charm…//

He picked up a pair of scissors and broke the tape seal. He felt a cold gust of air akin to the one he had felt upstairs rush past him, and the sensation of magick immediately dissipated. He looked inside, and found a carton full of rather innocuous looking items: a large photo album with a beautiful hand-sewn lace cover, several sealed envelopes with typed names on them, a stack of video and audio tapes, and a fat manila folder.

Angel considered waving the others back in, until he noticed that one of the plain envelopes had his name -- his human name -- typed on it. He looked at the neatly typed letters of his long-forgotten name for a moment before he tore it open.

The letter inside was handwritten on lined notebook paper… even rows of letters in a neat, broad script. With the shielding spell broken, the scent of the paper, the essence of the letters' author, rose swiftly to his sensitive nose. There was no mistaking the clean, outdoorsy scent of Riley Finn.

Angel unfolded the letter, and read:

"Angel:

I hope this letter finds you all well. Forest and I are doing fine. Obviously, I can't tell you where. However, I can tell you what we've been doing, and what we've found:

Since we've been underground, we've discovered more disturbing information about The Initiative. As it turns out, Dr. Walsh's real agenda was genetic manipulation research. Her notes indicate she was seeking a way to create what she must have seen as the ultimate warrior -- a creature that combined the best characteristics of both demon and human being. In the process, she performed thousands of experiments on countless creatures, human and otherwise.

Some of her subjects included all of the men in my squad, Alpha. We have been fed hormones, strength and mind-enhancing chemicals, and, apparently, demon DNA for roughly four years now. The withdrawal has been difficult, but we're recovering.

My primary concern is for Buffy and your child. As you can see, I've enclosed all of the original records of the tests and experiments done on her during her captivity, including some gene replacement therapy. The baby may well be fine… but I thought you would want to find out for certain.

I wish all of you the best of luck.

R.F."

Angel swallowed hard, and involuntarily growled deep in his throat. He knew it. He knew that something like this would happen. Gene replacement therapy????

He clutched the file marked "Summers, B.A.", and struggled with his growing rage, afraid that if he moved or even breathed, that he would lose control, and any sense of logic. And what he needed right now was a clear head.

The door opened behind him, "Angel, is everything alright? What's in the package?" Wesley asked, coming over to peer over his shoulder.

Angel regained control at last, and handed the folder to him.

"Give this to Giles," he said, "Erin Spicer needs to look at it right away."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The housewarming broke up rather quickly when it became apparent that the host, and a quarter of the guests, had left and weren't coming back.

After a long stream of thank you's and good-bye's, Buffy, Oz, Xander, Anya and Cordelia were the only people remaining.

Buffy frowned at them, "Did anybody see where they went?"

Anya shook her head, "Only Giles and Wesley… they ran out with a box."

Buffy glared at her, "And you didn't feel that was an important detail to share with the rest of us?"

Anya shrugged, unruffled, and continued to eat her ice cream.

Willow suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, a Jell-O salad in her hands.

"Hey, look! I found the Jell-O mold!" she announced, and then realized that there were suddenly a lot less people in the room. And the ones who remained looked kind of upset, "Did everybody leave?"

Buffy approached her, "Where's Angel?" she asked.

Willow whimpered a little under her best friend's knowing gaze, "Uh… the basement… A… a fuse blew?" she said, her voice tiny.

Buffy shot her a look, and pushed past her, disappearing into the kitchen.

Oz took the salad from Willow, dipped his finger in it, then licked it clean.

"Mm. Strawberry," he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Angel was sitting at his desk, staring down at a letter in his hand, when she found him.

"Angel?" she said quietly.

He jumped a little, then turned to look at her. He had been so deep in thought, he hadn't sensed her entry.

She was beautiful, standing there in her long black dress with the flowing gypsy sleeves. Her pregnancy had given the outline of her body even more generous curves, and lent a rosy glow to her skin that made him suddenly understand the significance of the Madonna.

She walked over and stood beside him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, "Anya said there was a package."

Angel blinked, "There was."

"Who was it from?"

He looked up and into her worried eyes, "It was from Riley," he told her.

Buffy blanched, "Oh," she said, "What was it?"

Angel handed her the baby book.

She looked at it and smiled broadly. A thoughtful gift… so completely Riley. Some part of her missed him.

"It's beautiful," she said, "It must be hand made. How do you know it was from him?"

Angel held up his letter, "There was a note," he said.

"What did it say?"

He let her question hang in the air for a moment, and then handed her the envelope with her name on it. Buffy stared at it, then back at Angel.

"Is he… alright?" she asked softly.

Angel felt a little pang of jealousy at her concern. "He seems fine," he answered.

"Then why…"

Angel nodded to her envelope, and watched as she tore it open and read its contents. When she was through, she said nothing, and her facial expression remained perfectly neutral.

He was dying to know what Finn had said to her, but didn't feel like it was his business to ask. He only wondered if he had chosen to tell Buffy the same things he'd told Angel.

"So that was the box Giles and Wesley left with," she said, her voice even.

Angel was waiting for some sign… any sign… of what she felt about this.

He nodded, "They're sending it overnight to Dr. Spicer."

Buffy sighed deeply, and looked down into his eyes, smiling.

"Don't worry," she said, "I would know if anything was wrong."

Angel forced a return smile, and wished he could be so certain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Doctor Spicer appeared in Sunnydale three days later, with only her briefcase. She was as warm and cordial as she had been on her last visit, and she seemed unconcerned by the rather large reception she received at Buffy and Angel's home.

She gratefully accepted the cup of tea Giles offered her, and sat, looking around at the mostly unfamiliar faces.

"Where is Buffy?" She asked Angel, who sat directly across from her.

He looked down at the floor. "She insists that nothing is wrong."

Erin smiled at him, "Well, she is correct. There is nothing wrong with your child, that I can find," she said, "Despite the experiments run on Buffy and the baby, there still appears to be nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly no signs of genetic alteration. All growth signs are still perfectly normal."

A collective sigh of relief resonated through he air.

Dr. Spicer smiled at the odd family, then reached out and patted Angel's hand, "There's nothing to worry about, dear," she promised.

Angel smiled back at her, but the sinking feeling didn't leave him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the others left, including Dr. Spicer, Angel found Buffy where she'd remained all day, in the nursery. She sat in the old rocker he'd refurbished for her, rubbing her stomach and staring absently out the window at the setting sun.

"You okay?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

Buffy turned and smiled softly at him, "I'm fine," she said, and looked back out the window, "The sky's so pretty… look at that pink."

Angel didn't understand how she could remain so calm after all they had learned. How could she be so strong, so sure, when all he could feel was a terror that froze him down to his bones? What was it that Finn had said in his letter to her that seemed to insulate her from all the ugly possibilities that now haunted their child?

He walked across the room, and stood beside her, taking her hand.

"Don't you want to know what Erin said?" he asked her.

Buffy thought for a moment, "I don't need to," she said.

Her certainty calmed him some -- not nearly enough, but he would leave it be. There wasn't much time, now… He pulled the hand he held up to his lips, and gently kissed its palm.

"Okay," he said.

Buffy looked up and him, her face peaceful, "Everything's fine, sweetheart," she said, smiling, "Everything's going to be all right."


	12. Curses & Miracles

Angel winced a little when she hollered again. He would have thought that someone with the strength and stamina of the Slayer, who had lived through the kind of pain, both physical and emotional, that Buffy had would give birth to a child with the grace and ease of an aboriginal woman in the field.

Not so, his Slayer. She'd been at it for close to five hour -- five long, arduous hours through which he had struggled to keep a stiff upper lip... stay strong, for her, when what he really wanted to do was break down and cry from the sheer exhaustion of it. But he didn't... he only fought to remember all the Lamaze practice they had done... keep the instructions clear in his mind, and not let her pain or his own panic take over.

He wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. The shades were drawn against the coming sunrise, allowing Angel to stay. He found, to his own surprise, that being beside her through this, the greatest of Mysteries, was an unexpected honor.

"Come on, Buffy! You're doing great!" Willow encouraged her, modeling the proper breathing they had learned in Lamaze. She took her friends hand, and when the next contraction hit, Buffy almost pulverized her small bones.

"Ouchouchouchouch!" Willow yelped, and as soon as the pressure lessened, snatched her hand away, "Angel, maybe handholding should be your job."

Angel nodded, "Got it," he said. He reached out and took Buffy's hand, "Breathe, honey... deep... slow..." he found the particular talent of the undead to hypnotize to be of some practical use, for the first time.

Buffy started to cry, "It hurts... I'm so tired..."

Angel closed his eyes against the guilty pain that shot through him.

//It's normal to be scared. It's normal to be tired. Stay strong. She needs you.//

He suddenly felt an agonizing need for his own mother, and wished fervently, for a moment, that she were still alive.

"You can do it, Buffy. Just a couple more!" Willow encouraged.

Angel hardened his features into a mask of grim determination, and reached down once again to grab Buffy's hand, and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Buffy, breathe!" he said to her, "Like this!" He forced his dead lungs to make the requisite movements, to fill with air that he rhythmically pumped out of himself, "Come on, mo gra… you can do it. I know you can…"

Buffy's eyes opened and focused on him. Her face set into an expression of fierce and determined effort, and she gritted her teeth and bore down. Her eyes never left his.

"Come on... Fight!" he said to her.

"Push, Buffy! Just one more!" Willow called from the end of the bed.

Buffy grunted and pushed as hard as she could, with the last ounce of strength she could find inside her, crushing the bones of Angel's hand as she did.

"Oh, oh, that's it… that's great, Buffy!"

As the contraction eased, Buffy's cries changed... became sharper... more frightened.

"Oh, god, it hurts!!!" she shouted.

Willow's eyes went wide, and she quickly grabbed a towel from the table next to her and brought it up against Buffy's body.

"Okay... okay... stay calm," she said, not even the least bit calmly, "Angel, go get Giles."

Angel looked at her, "What? What's wrong?"

Buffy clutched his hand, "What is it? ARRRGH! It HURTS! Angel! Don't leave me!"

Suddenly, he could smell blood. Not the small amounts that had been present in the air all night, but a new, sharper, thicker scent. Angel looked down in horror at Willow, who suddenly seemed to be covered in it.

"Oh. This... This..." she looked up at him, "This is too much blood! Call an ambulance!"

Buffy started crying in earnest, weeping senselessly, and it took every bit of Angel's will to pull his hand away.

"Angel, don't go!" Buffy wailed. Her face was turning an impossible shade of crimson.

Angel froze, staring at her.

"ANGEL!" Willow shouted at him.

He snapped back to the present and bolted out of the bedroom door, down the hall and down the stairs, almost knocking Xander out of the way at the bottom.

"What's going on?" Xander asked him.

"Get Giles! Get him now!" he shouted at him, "Call 911!"

Xander sprinted to the living room, which suddenly exploded with panicking voices, shouting, and rushing about. He reached down, and snatched the ex-watcher from the couch.

"They want you! They want you now, right now… HURRY!"

Giles didn't hesitate to bound up the stairs, Angel close at his heels.

"Call 911!" Giles shouted to anyone who might be listening.

Xander was already talking to an operator.

Giles barrelled into the bedroom, where Buffy lay crying, and Willow sat, covered in blood and staring, terrified, up at them.

Tears streamed down her face, "There's too much blood..." she said sorrowfully, holding up her bloody hands in illustration.

Angel froze in the doorway, his chest clenched tight with fear. The last time he had felt a panic like this, Buffy had almost died. He remembered, clearly, his frantic drive back to Sunnydale from LA... from the moment he knew something was wrong until the moment that he met Spike at the hospital... two hours. He had been two hours away, and she could be dead in two minutes.

It had been the same numbing, sucking fear that held him in his clutches now.

Giles had no such reaction. He tore off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and gently pushed Willow out of the way.

"It's alright, Buffy. An ambulance is on the way," he assured her, then turned back to look at Willow, who now clutched Angel's hand desperately, "Go. Take Angel, and go wait for the ambulance. We'll be fine."

Angel stared at Buffy. No longer unnaturally red, she was not unnaturally pale, almost blue. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing, shallow. He could hear both her, and the baby's, heartbeat laboring.

"No... Buffy..." he objected weakly as Willow pulled him out into the hall.

"Women die in childbirth all the time," a cold voice inside him pointed out.

//Oh God.//

Angel sagged against the wall, and watched Wilow wander senselessly down the stairs, into Xander's waiting arms.

"They're coming," he told her, rocking her gently, "It's okay. She'll be okay."

Angel closed his eyes and tried to let the boy's voice convince him.

He felt a small hand on his arm, and stiffly dragged his head around to look at Cordelia.

"Angel, come on… we have to get out of the way. The paramedics are here," she said gently.

He stared dumbly at her. She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and pulled him to the side just as two EMT's, a gurney, and Joyce came running up the stairs. The bedroom door opened, and Angel was once again overwhelmed with the smell of the blood… he could hear her crying…

He stared at the open door in horror.

"I can't… leave her," he said.

"Angel, you can't go with her. We have to get out of the way," Cordelia insisted.

"I have to…"

"It's the middle of the morning, sweetie.... We'll get you there, don't worry. Right now, we just have to let them take care of her."

The hallway was suddenly filled with people, and the gurney reappeared with Buffy on it.

She could barely keep her eyes open… barely focus on anything besides the searing pain that screamed through her whole body. But she could see him… She reached out her hand as they hustled her away.

"ANGEL!!!" she cried out to him.

He couldn't move. And by the time he regained control of his body, they were already gone.

He didn't remember grabbing Buffy's emergency bag or his own coat from the front closet. He didn't remember Cordelia covering him in a thick wool blanket and rushing him into the back of Oz's van, which they had pulled up close to the front door.

He didn't remember the dark ride to the hospital, or when Wesley helped him out of the van once they were in the underground parking garage… He didn't remember sprinting up the stairs to the emergency ward, or being herded, without answers, into a waiting room by an irate nurse.

He sat in one of the uncomfortable vinyl chairs, and prepared to wait.

Wait, they did. An hour, then two. Angel could barely sit still... could barely resist the constant urge he had to run down that hall. In his heart, he could hear her crying, begging him not to leave her. He could still feel her pain and terror, in his soul...

How many times, and in how many ways, could he possibly let her down?

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He got up and ran for the stairwell, fighting hysterical tears that threatened from deep inside him. He bolted down the stairs and leaned the exit door open. The morning sun had disappeared, and a pounding rainstorm took its place. The sky had become a murky purplish-grey, as if it, too, knew what was happening.

"If you're so concerned," he said to the sky… or maybe to the Powers themselves, "Then DO SOMETHING!!!"

"Nothing like a rainy day for a tragedy…" came a voice from the hall behind him.

Angel didn't bother to turn and look at Spike.

"Funny, isn't it, how we always seem to end up back here, with her…" Spike said, "She's just a magnet for trouble."

Angel turned, and without warning, punched Spike square in the face.

"UGH! BLOODY HELL!" he shouted, bringing his hands to his nose to stem the blood, "Damn it. Rotten bastard…"

Angel leaned back into the doorway, waiting for his childe to leave. He didn't.

"What do you want, Spike?" he asked flatly.

"Came to pick up some smokes. They're cheaper in the gift shop," he quipped, tapping a Marlboro Red out of the pack. He offered another to his sire.

Angel accepted it, and put it in his mouth. Spike lit it for him, and he drew the smoke deep into his lungs, and forced it out again, watching the faint plumes disappear into the rain.

"What they fail to realize," Spike said, "Is that this is really the way it's always been done. Send the menfolk away to smoke and drink, and leave the hard work to the ladies. It hasn't always been sympathy get-ups and team births and all that bunk. Leave the Mysteries to the women. That's who they were made for."

Angel barely listened to his babbling. Obviously, Spike had no idea what was really going on, and he hadn't the strength or the desire to fill him in. All he could hear was the suffering and death that seemed to groan from the very stone foundation of the hospital… Buffy, calling his name… the desperate look on her face as the medics carried her away…

Spike picked up on his sire's misery. Something must have gone very wrong with the Slayer.

"She's not easy to kill…" he pointed out, in a weak attempt to comfort him.

He said nothing, only stared out at the rain and smoked his cigarette.

"Hey, mate. She'll be fine. I remember when that mob almost killed Dru in Prague…"

Angel spun on him, his face a mask of fury, "DON'T, EVER, compare her to Buffy. Do you understand?" he spat.

Spike backed away, holding his hands up defensively, "Fine. You just go ahead and keep up with your suffering, then," he said, and disappeared back into the hall.

Angel finished his cigarette, and then slowly made his own way back to the waiting room. He recalled the last time he had walked the halls of Sunnydale General, back when all this began… back on the last occasion when he'd almost lost her…

He realized, with a pain that tore him in two, that he could never keep Buffy safe enough… not ever.

He collapsed next to Cordelia on the couch. She put her arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close.

Another hour passed. And as Angel watched each minute tick by, he remembered some moment they had shared together. Some smile, some gentle touch… each scene playing like a cherished movie in his mind, from the first moment she had kicked his ass in that alley behind the Bronze, to just the other day, when he had laid with his head in her lap, feeding her Crunch-N-Munch as they read through their fifth baby name book.

After a time, he felt the pain begin to ease, and the cries grow softer, inside him. Soon, there was nothing.

Angel felt a cry tear from his stomach, and he sagged against Cordelia.

"She's gone," he moaned, "She's dead," his exhaustion and fear had finally gotten the better of him... made him irrational, unstable... unable to feel anything, including his unbreakable bond with her.

Cordy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, burying her face in the shoulder of his coat.

Everyone in the room heard him. They all, suddenly, felt smaller. Anya burst into loud tears, and Xander pulled her to him, his own tears flooding his eyes.

"She's fine..." Joyce objected, "She's fine."

Giles got up and left the room.

Angel didn't cry. He was so overwhelmed by the sudden vacuum of loss… of shock… he just stared over Cordelia's shaking shoulder into empty space.

Why didn't he feel her absence? Why did he feel as connected to her in this moment… maybe more so… than when she lived?

No one moved.

After a moment, he realized that Willow had entered the room.

"Angel…" she said softly.

It took all of his will to raise his eyes to look at her. He scanned her familiar features. Her face was ashen, exhausted, and her eyes were ringed by heavy shadows. He swallowed, hard. Was he ready for this?

The redhead's face burst into a tired, but radiant, smile, "Don't you want to come meet your daughter?" she said.

Angel felt his soul shatter into a million pieces, "She's… she's… they're… okay?" he stammered.

Willow nodded. Giles came in behind her.

"She's fine," Giles said. He looked equally tired, and twice as happy, as Willow.

Angel leapt to his feet and sprinted down the hall to the recovery room door. He stopped outside for a moment, said a silent prayer of thanks to the infernal PTB's, and pushed it open.

Buffy was asleep, of course. Fast asleep, with a tiny thing resting against her breast. Angel froze for a moment at the picture they created. He wanted this moment to remain crystal clear in his memory, until the end of time.

He took a deep breath as he fought once again for control over his raging emotions. He'd spent 250 years hiding… no reason he couldn't keep it up now, for their sakes. He stood beside the bed, looking down at them.

After a moment, Buffy's big, beautiful eyes opened, and she gazed up at him.

"Hi…" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He swallowed hard once again.

//Control… keep control… don't break down…//

"Hi," he said, smiling gently at her.

"Look," she said, peering down at their sleeping child, "We have a baby."

Angel felt something deep within him break. Something fundamental, something ancient that had lain dormant since the day his human body died… he felt joy like none he'd ever imagined possible wash through him like a healing light, and he reached down to lightly brush Buffy's forehead. Then, he placed his palm in his daughter's thick, downy hair.

"I see that," he said, barely able to find his voice.

Buffy smiled again. It was a weak, tired smile, but it was genuine, and filled with love.

"It's a miracle," she told him, "Look what we did."

Angel sighed deeply, stroking the baby's head, using all of his might to keep from crying, "I did nothing," he said softly, "You brought her, mo croi… a mioruilit…"

"Mioruilit…" Buffy repeated.

The baby named herself, after all. Mioruilit NicAingeal… Miracle, Daughter of Angel.

"I love you," Buffy said.

It was all Angel could do to keep from leaping on to the bed with them, take them both in his arms and shield them with his own body… to protect them both from any pain… any danger, ever.

He looked at them both for another moment, and then slowly dropped to his knees, his strength finally giving way. He lay his head on Buffy's chest, so that he was nose-to-nose with his beautiful daughter. He lay there, listening to their strong heartbeats, and felt the warm dampness of sweat on Buffy's skin against his cheek. He wrapped his arms around them. Holding his life's only love, and his precious daughter -- his heart… his family… his soul -- in his arms, Angel wept.


	13. All's Well That Ends Without Anybody Dying Horribly or Having to Part Forever.

(I stole this first bit from one of my own stories, "Possession".)

The screeching haunted Angel's dreams. It burrowed its way into even the brightest of subconscious places, driving him close to bloodlust from the sheer, piercing fury of it. He fought to shut the din out.

Then, there was the tapping on his chest… then, the shaking… someone shaking him.

"Buffy…" he said, slowly waking. The screeching was here, too.

"It's your turn," she said, smacking his chest, then promptly turned over and resumed her soft snoring.

Angel yawned groggily and grabbed his robe from beside the bed, throwing it over his shoulders as he lumbered down the stairs to the kitchen.

Bottle. Fridge. Microwave. Preset-22. Wait for beep. Give to baby.

The instructions were carved into his brain. They'd become a living part of his autonomic nervous system -- at least, what little one he had.

But as soon as he lifted the warm, screaming bundle that was his daughter, he was instantly wide awake. He looked down at her little face, screwed up in indignant rage, and wondered at how much she looked like Buffy.

When Nikki had her bottle and had settled a bit, Angel sat in the rocker by the window, humming an Old Irish tune as she happily sucked away.

Buffy leaned back in the doorway, watching them. Her love… her daughter… She felt the familiar wave of gratitude and joy wash over her as she looked at his giant body, cradling the tiny, helpless one of their child, singing softly in Gaelic as he so loved to do. The moonlight pouring in the window lit them silver, lending them a glow so close to a halo, Buffy wanted to cry. Her two angels…

She must have made a noise, or maybe Angel just knew she was there, as he turned his head to look at her. The moon glanced off his dark eyes, and he smiled.

She walked slowly across the room toward them, and Angel felt his heart throb at the sight of her, her baggy pajamas almost see-through in the pale light, outlining the curves of her still-tiny body. She put her arms around him, and lay her cheek on the top of his head, gazing down at her little girl, who now slept peacefully once again. Nikki had Angel's serious brow… his full lips… his perfect ears… and all that thick brown hair. Buffy leaned down and carefully kissed her downy cheek, then placed another kiss on the matching head of her father.

"I love you," he said, smiling up at her.

"I love you, too," she said, and went back to bed.

Angel watched her go, and sat staring into the doorway long after she disappeared.

He felt Nikki stir, and looked down, surprised to find her eyes wide open. She didn't look disturbed or frightened, and she wasn't turning any funny colors, she simply looked with interest at the opposite side of the room.

Interest? Babies this young weren't interested in anything except sleeping, eating, and being held.

He slowly raised his eyes to where she was looking. Maybe there was something there…

"Well, if that's not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, then I've never seen anything beautiful," Doyle said.

"D-Doyle?" Angel whispered.

"Hello there, Pop. Just stopped by to give my warmest regards… nice digs, by the way."

Angel stared at him, his mouth hanging open, "Doyle…" he managed again.

"Aren't you gonna say anything else besides my name? And after I came all this way to bring you a nice gift and everything…" he grinned.

Angel slowly came to his senses, and he looked at the dead half-demon's empty arms. "What?"

Doyle laughed, "Well, ya can't see it, but I promise, you'll like it."

Angel slowly stood, still holding Nikki in his arms, and vampire and ghost stood face to face.

"Doyle…" he said yet again.

"Listen, Angel… they don't give me much time, here, so…"

"Did I hear somebody say 'gift'?" Buffy asked as she returned to the room. She looked calmly at Doyle, seemingly unconcerned about a ghost in her home.

Of course, her boyfriend was a vampire, and her friends included a motley crew of witches, ex-demons, werewolves, and other freaks, so, why not?

"It's nice to see you again, Buffy. Congratulations." Doyle said.

"Thank you. It's nice to see you again, too." She smiled warmly at him, then looked at Angel, who apparently wasn't handling the haunting well. He stood, staring with his mouth open, clutching Nikki to his chest.

Doyle looked more closely at her. "Aww… she's a cute one, she is…" he remarked.

"Thank you," Buffy answered, "Would you like to hold her? I mean, if you're solid…"

He nodded, "I am, and I'd love to."

Angel blinked and moved slowly, handing the baby to his friend. Doyle held her properly and gently, and cooed down at her for a couple of minutes. The baby laughed at him. Finally, he looked back at Angel.

"You're a very lucky man," he said.

Angel smiled, "I am," he said.

Doyle handed the baby back to him, and stepped away, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Well. Down to business, then," he said, "The Oracles are really sorry for the mistake…"

Buffy and Angel both gave him a look.

"Okay, so they're really not. They keep saying 'It's all part of the plan.' And, 'If it happened, it was meant to be…' All that cryptic claptrap. But, they did say there was something… a couple of things, actually, that you might like to know."

"Like what?" Angel asked him.

He knew. Some part of him knew what Doyle was about to say. He could feel it humming in his blood and lighting his soul.

"For starters, there's this wee lass," he said, wiggling the baby's foot, "She's not just any child."

Buffy came closer, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's more to her than you know yet. But don't worry. Nothing bad… no horns or fangs or anything. She'll just be… extra special," he told her.

Buffy nodded.

"Also… there's one more thing," Doyle went on, "You might like to know that they said, and I quote, 'The Teacher wouldn't allow the same mistake to be made twice.' Mean anything to ya?"

Angel stared at him, "What? Are you saying…"

Doyle grinned at him. Realization slowly crept across Buffy's features.

"Oh, my God…" she whispered, "You mean… there's no…"

"No Moment of Perfect Happiness clause," Angel finished for her.

"Nope! No loopholes, no riders, no ands, ifs, or buts. Do you honestly think, if there were, you would have made it through the first moment you laid eyes on this sweet little one?" he chuckled, "I doubt it. They won't make you human, Angel, but they thought that this was the next best thing."

Angel took a deep breath, "All this time since I've been back from Hell…"

Doyle nodded, "Yup."

All three adults were silent, listening to the happy gurgle of the baby as she tugged at Doyle's jacket.

"Well," he said, after a moment, "You don't have to thank me or anything. You kids just go have fun."

Angel looked into his friend's eyes one last time, "Will we see you again?" he asked.

Doyle shrugged. "I'll be about," he said, and disappeared.

Angel stared into the space where he had been standing, and let tears roll down his cheeks.

"I… love you, Doyle…" he whispered into the shadows.

"I know you do," the shadows replied.

It took him a few minutes before all of what had just occured sunk in, and he turned to look at Buffy, who leaned in the doorway, staring at him.

"Why don't you put her to bed?" She said softly.

Angel gently lay his daughter back in her crib, and then turned to look at Buffy again. She smiled shyly up at him.

"I wish I had gotten to know Doyle better…" she said, "He seems nice."

Angel took a step toward her, gazing deep into the soft, mossy haze of her eyes, "A nice, drunken lout," he said, "He was my friend. I loved him."

"I'm glad you got to tell him so…" Buffy said, her breath coming faster with each step Angel took in her direction. She could feel her skin begin to tingle, and that little twitch in her gut that warned her of a vampire nearby turned into a cramp.

The ironic feelings inside her… the feeling of being ready to fight, combined with the feeling of desire long repressed swiftly growing within her… turned her on even more than the sudden thought that came into her mind of his big, hard body, pressed skin-to-skin against her own.

"Me too," he said, now less than a foot away, "How long were you standing there?" his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know I like his taste in gifts…" she breathed.

His lips were inches from hers, now. She could feel his cool breath on her flushed face. Her heart pounded.

"That's it, then," he said, "That's almost the last of the unmanageable hurdles." He was overcome suddenly by the feeling of Buffy's warmth radiating over him. He couldn't look away from her eyes.

Buffy didn't want him to. She crossed the last centimeter that separated them and kissed him softly.

Angel gasped a little.

"I guess so," she agreed.

Without another word, he swept her up in his arms, and kissed her fiercely, devouring her mouth with his own, as he carried her back down the hall to the bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed, and stood above, looking down at her with a look she would later describe to Willow as ecstatic.

"I've dreamed of this…" he said, "For a hundred years, in Hell. For every moment I spent without you. And since that last day…" he paused and inhaled deeply, absorbing her… the scent of her life, her warmth… he studied the amazed look in her eyes, "Since then, I've wanted you twice as much. Every minute of every day."

"Then take me…" she invited, smiling, "I'm yours."

THE END.


	14. Bonus Smutty Epilogue

Never taking her eyes from his, Buffy reached up and slid her hands over his hard abs, encouraging him to remove his robe. He did, and stood naked before her.

Buffy reached her hands out and pulled him down onto her, into her arms, and they kissed once again, their lips and their bodies melding slowly, with an ancient familiarity.

"Everything… everything about you is so beautiful…" he murmured, sitting up and slowly undoing the buttons of her pajama top, exposing her breasts. He groaned slightly at their appearance, and dipped his head down to her skin. He pressed a long, cool kiss into the spot where her heart beat, and then slowly traced his lips down the satin underskin of her breast, then back up, barely grazing her swollen nipple. He repeated the soft motions for the other breast, before taking a long, aching eternity to wrap his lips firmly around each nipple, drawing their growing hardness into his mouth, one at a time.

Angel wanted to simply devour her on the spot. Instead, he decided to begin work on kissing every inch of her body that he'd never kissed before… the smooth skin of her ribcage, the hollow of her hipbones. He brushed his lips over each inch of her that he exposed to the air, as if completing a quilt of touch he had begun long ago, and had thought about returning to ever since.

Buffy sighed. "Oh… Angel…" she whispered. She could hear nothing but her heart pounding, and her blood rushing through her veins in response to his touch.

"Like fine silk… like treasure, buried…" he breathed into her skin, "Under rough clothes, all the time. But I always knew it was there… I can always feel you, from across the room… across the street… a million miles away, I feel you."

He slid her pajama bottoms off, making sure to brush her skin softly with his hands as he did, and then slowly slid the length of his body up hers until they were face to face once again.

Buffy moaned softly, "Like heaven…" she said.

"I told you," he agreed, running his hands gently up her sides, over her hips, and underneath her. He lifted her body up off the bed, so they knelt face to face.

He kissed her brow, her cheeks, her lips… he shifted slowly over, barely touching his lips to the sensitive skin behind her ears and down the delicate lines of her neck… the fine bones of her shoulders… the hard muscles of her arms… he nipped, and kissed, and licked every inch, down to her fingertips.

Buffy reeled from the sensations ripping through her. She could barely stay upright.

Angel tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her lips back to his. He sucked on the lower one slowly, then the upper, and then spread his trail of kisses back down the other side of her neck, to his mark.

Buffy groaned loudly and pressed her body closer to his at the feeling of his lips on her scarred flesh. She slid her hands slowly over the marbled muscles of his back, down around his waist and over his thighs.

He sighed into her skin. "I can't believe how good it feels to touch you again…"

Even sharing a bed these past few months, they hadn't dared touch one another too much… it was easier to deny that the temptation existed, than it was to try and fight it once it was acknowledged. But now…

Buffy couldn't respond. It was all she could do not to pass out, her heart was pounding so furiously. But her body knew what to do… her body, that had shared sweat with his human body… that had shared blood with the demon inside him… the body that had borne his child.

Her hands roamed every carved inch of him… traced over the lines of his jaw and his cheekbones. His beautiful chocolate eyes were shrouded with love and lust that compelled her to dive into his lips once again.

Angel crushed her to him. There was no other feeling in the world like this one… the feeling of her arms around him and the length of their bodies pressed together. He had spent so many hours dreaming about this… wishing for it… remembering it…

He swept her legs out from under her and lowered her back to the bed. With no further preamble, he slid inside of her.

Buffy immediately cried out, wrapping her strong legs around him, desperately struggling to draw him as far inside her as their separate skins would allow. He fit her perfectly, even now. Like her body was made especially for his… As if they had been cast from the same sweet mold, and been broken apart by the cruel twist of fate that was human birth. Only now were they whole once again.

Angel gasped at the sheer bliss of her body wrapped around his… this completion… All the philosophies of the world… all the religions and the myths and the poetry were all about this moment -- this shirking of the distance between all physical beings that walked the earth… This merging… the Original Union. The closest thing to pure creation, pure joy, pure pleasure. Every being longed for it… ached for it…

Angel plunged into the feeling, and into her, safe in the knowledge that this fire wouldn't destroy them, this time… that their passion and love would never again endanger the world.

//A gift…//

He threw his head back and cried out her name, driving into her with the sheer force of his impending release. Buffy arched beneath him, digging her nails deep into his back, and let a guttural, joyous cry burst from her own throat as she came with him…

Their bodies rocked in time, their voices strained from shouting, their limbs fiercely joining and fighting one another simultaneously, until Angel collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck.

Buffy put her arms around him and held him close, panting hard, still throbbing from the force of her orgasm. He softly kissed her neck, and she sighed.

It was better than the first time… better than the last time… Because this time, it was for good. After everything they had been through… everything they had braved to be together, this gentle moment seemed the ultimate reward.

She softly stroked his hair and thought of the bright days that lay ahead.

"Gods… I love you, Buffy," Angel sighed.

She smiled to herself and gave him a gentle squeeze, "I love you, too…"

The sound of the baby shrieking cut through the hot cocoon of warmth that surrounded them. Buffy groaned.

"Your turn," Angel said, looking deeply into her eyes and kissing her tenderly before he rolled over and went to sleep.


End file.
